Telltale Bats
by DarkVampire111
Summary: Being undercover with The Pact was never ideal, but Brooklyn Wayne never expected it to turn out like this. Never saw John Doe like she should've til it was too late. Telltale Batman. Fem!Bruce
1. Chapter 1

**Telltale Bats**

 _Note: I really like to explore all the conversation options with John. I would pay to just have an extension pack with John to talk to him more and go on more missions with him (to adopt him, can I just have John?)!_

 _Anyway, this is a character study? A what if's thing set to, of course, my Brooke version of Bruce because I can't help it. Everything in this is like the game though, no connection to my other stuff in the tag._

* * *

It was cold down below the surface in less than temperature and more in a damp sort of sensation. Like drowning in rain a half inch at a time. The reverse of slowly cooking a lobster to death but similar. She flicked a few strands of her dark hair off her shoulder to let them hang correctly in the ponytail.

Brooklyn Wayne chewed the inside of her cheek as she shifted from foot to foot, deliberating silently on her best options.

Coming to in the decaying recesses of an old tunnel started the night off badly enough, particularly as she took in those looming figures around her. Bane probably most of all considering her last memory of the man. If you could indeed call him a man. An evil Adonis with tattoos, tacky skin-tight clothing, and a mask.

When she went undercover she expected to see him again but she had not relished it. Harley was bad enough with her guns and hammers. Riddler was more insane than she expected for throwing the people she met together.

Even though falling back on her flippant mask to joke about waking up cuffed to a chair got her a few chuckles, it did nothing to make her feel more in control. Facing a hard lineup of decided enemies surrounding her was reminiscent of landing in Arkham only to revive for a pummeling. Experience even more related since John was there to grin at her with too much enthusiasm.

The night decidedly did not improve much from there, not that she expected it would. There was a reason she never involved her real face with these types of settings. Even now, if there was any choice, she wouldn't be doing this. All the same, she found herself on the "doorstep" of her only friend in the camp, wondering how exactly he managed to create this interesting version of a home.

Though, the welcome banner was an odd but endearing touch from John. She almost laughed when she saw it. It was more welcoming than the cuffs.

She adjusted the hat she borrowed from Alfred and straightened the leather jacket because she was admittedly stalling.

When she knocked she got a distant "yeah?" from inside to let her know he was there. Peeking inside let her watch his face light up, jade color eyes sparking. The collar of his dress shirt was still skewed but she had long since given up the urge to fix it every time she saw him, accepting it as part of his personality. He dress nicely, always at least moderately professional, surprisingly. It made her wonder if he'd always been that way outside the asylum.

His cobbled together remnants of the past in a hospital was accentuated by his old uniform hanging up and pictures with doctors tapped or nailed proudly to the decrepit walls. The wheelchair he was sitting in was a giveaway too. His home was as disturbing as she expected it might be after having been in the former doctor Quinzel's office. The masks and creepy drawn on smiles were a trend with both of them.

"Hey, buddy," the way he clapped his hands together was so childlike regardless of his sometimes sinister quality, "it's always so good to see you... Like, so good."

His smile was so abnormally large, always too wide for any other person, particularly for how long his facial structure was, but it fit on his face the way it never would on anyone else. Everything about him was abnormal.

"Always good to see you, John." It was sweet because she thought he really meant it and she couldn't help responding in kind.

She already missed him if he was not around. A foolish part of her wanted to cling to him for her own protection and to protect him from everyone else. If she was not careful she could get more attached. Situations like this were how people formed unhealthy dependence issues.

"Thanks for letting me come in." She cleared her throat awkwardly.

"Oh, you know, Brooke, you're always welcome with me! Always! Any time, day or night, say the word."

"Day or night huh?" She chuckled lightly, "Careful making offers like that. You don't want people waking you up at two or three in the morning, you'll regret the offer really fast."

"Not for you." John assured her, "But anyway. I've been wanting to say, Brooke, thanks for helping me out before, at your office, making me look good." Of course, John would thank her for that, something she really had not enjoyed at all. If anything, she owed John something for staying quiet about Tiffany. Things could have gone so much worse if he had not been on her side. He picked her in that vs battle when she feared his loyalty to Harley would win out.

She plastered a simple, unaffectedly yet pleased look on her face, "Hey, I'm just glad everything worked out." Which she really, really was, even if it had not worked as well as she might have hoped for.

"Did it ever!" He just looked so happy, seemingly believing her slight dodge of the issue and taking it at face value. "Handing that Key to Harley, giving her what she wanted... Pure ecstasy!" Yeah, that was not worrying at all! That devotion and twisted loyalty to someone dragging an already unstable man into places he should never go.

Her lack of personal enjoyment over the issue must have shown, or maybe he just realized how his wording must have sounded, because his smile turned nervous before it fell off his face, leaving him to sag with shoulders slumped, "It was a big moment for me." He told her like a defense.

Brooke tried to smile, she really did, but listening to him talk had her extensively worried. Not that she hadn't been before, of course. "I'm sure... there will be... a lot more chances for you to... show off." What could she say?

"And I'll bet I'll owe them to you, again!" He grinned, letting her know that wasn't something he considered negative.

"I'm sure you don't need me for that. I'll help you any way I can though... of course. If you need anything." Preferably nothing to do with crime. "And, you know... we'll still be friends after this is over so... I could help you other ways too." Like getting him out of a tunnel and into an apartment with nice people around him. She could buy a building he could have all to himself if needed.

"You're the best! Like I always knew you were. " He held up his pinky finger, still trying to explain things to her, she thought, "I shoulda known right when we pinky-sweared that everything would work out great!"

"Yeah..." Just great. What would he say if he knew the truth? She nodded absently, diverting her eyes to keep herself from shaking the sense back into him. He was not well and he could not really be held responsible the way most of the others could. But then, maybe all of those people were crazy too. They all had a healthy checklist of signs for a lot of mental issues. Maybe they had all been like John at some point. Too bad no one had been around to save them. Too bad she was in such a poor, precarious position or she might be able to help John before he turned into them.

Leaning his elbows on his knees, his face twisted up into a sweet little look of concern, John studied her, "Something wrong, buddy?" Every time he called her that it reminded her how out of his depth he was outside Arkham as far as social norms.

She could not look at him directly for long, but also could not look away for long, "I just don't..." Brooke cut off the ' _don't want to see you end up like them_ ' because she could not admit that when she was supposed to want to be 'one of them'. She opted for something else closer to acceptable, the reason she came to talk to him because Batwoman was needling in the back of her mind for efficiency. "Harley wants me to try to get in good with Bane and Freeze-"

John cut in with enthusiasm, so eager to cheer her on, "I think you're well on your way to doing just that." Such a sincere look on his face!

"You think?" She tried not to sound sarcastic.

"Oh, absolutely! No one could resist you for long! You're Gotham's best known, most loved humanitarian!"

"Not recently..." She chuckled, making as light of it as possible. "And I'm pretty sure Bane wanted me dead before I got here..."

"Give them time! Everyone loves you! I know they do, even if they don't know it yet! Things will work out and you'll show them all!" So enthusiastic, eyes bright like a Christmas tree.

He was literally always her biggest cheerleader, constantly building her up, praises on his lips for her. She never had such a fervent admirer, and one so willing to forgive her any wrong. He said she was his pal, his buddy, but even after he denied being in love with her, she questioned it. Part of her, a shameful little part, wanted him to.

What she would do with him if his obsessive friendship turned to more, she had no idea. She could see him turning into a stalker very easily. Just this once she might not even mind. Though how she would explain it to anyone else, she couldn't say. Nor did she care to examine the possibilities. It was not a good path.

She could already picture Alfred's face if she tried to explain why she invited John to dinner and how it was they first met if he was not already perfectly aware of John's criminal association. Being aware would make that look all the more interesting, the eyebrow raise a bit higher. Fatherly disproval building like a storm cloud behind the man's diplomatic facade.

Besides, how twisted was it to want to turn his pure, honest friendship into anything else when friends were to precious a commodity to risk. It was the way of society pages to want to turn every friendship into a scandal. Normally it was men wanting to be more than friends with her, and her wishing they could just accept friendship as a valid option for once. Ever conflicting.

Relationships were complicated and too dangerous for someone with her sheer amount of secrets. She didn't need that and neither did he. He already had a twisted enough relationship with Harley. Friends were rare and they were very nice to have. They were better than any love affair. She was content to have him as a rare friend. Of course she was!

"I'm glad one of us thinks it's going well." She muttered not particularly enthused, even with his assurance. More than likely she was going to end up dead on this undercover stint.

"It is, Brooke, it is! You're gaining on them! I mean, you're still alive so that's a good sign. It's a great sign! And, I've been doing..." he continued, eager and nervous in one, "you know... what I can to help, too..." Her confusion was both at the conversation and trying to gather her mind back to hand, "You didn't catch it?" He asked coyly.

She felt suddenly out of the loop.

"When it looked like Bane might kill you, I set off that E.M.P." He chuckled like it was a great scam he pulled off, one he was flippant but proud of, "You know, as a distraction. Thought it might give you a chance to show off your technical skills in front of Freeze."

A moment of memory, John with his hands raised, backing away from Freeze, breath a hot cloud in the fridged air. Good God!

"You didn't!" Her terror might have been peeping through because he had the decency to look sorry.

"Trust me, it was the easiest way to sway Freeze and get Bane off your case. You couldn't show off your skills if nothing went wrong, right? Skills like that are the only thing I think Freeze really respects." John finished simply like it had all been ordinary, something anyone would do.

Too many things flashed through her mind, gratitude is one of the most prominent but maybe fear was even higher. Her fingers were shaking and she didn't know why they wouldn't stop. He should never have risked it! Never! It was too dangerous! Though she was more than slightly in debt. He deserved her gratitude, and acts of kindness rather than violence should be encouraged, lest he turns into the others. Reward first, then her gut reaction to warn him away from being so utterly reckless on her behalf ever, ever again!

She took a deep, steady breath, "Thank you. Really." For a rare moment she allowed her emotion into her voice, let the affection and gratitude bleed into her response honestly, "...I owe you my life, John."

"It's what pals do. I know you'd do the same for me." He was so confident in it, and he wasn't wrong.

She would have done it for him if things had been reversed. He had a more firm grasp on friendship than she expected. There was more good in him than she once thought. He might have relied on some interesting rules of friendship in Arkham, but he was potentially the most selfless person she ever met, or simply that insane. She would think him ingenuine but he just seemed too real to be faking it. His emotions were ever on his sleeve, for good or bad.

His lies seemed mostly a twisting of words and simple omission. She couldn't say she thought he was skilled at it. Maybe he was even honest at his core considering how he usually owned up to his omissions, like at the bar when he confessed Riddler' s involvement.

He had seemed honestly worried while she was in danger. Now that he pointed it out, she had noticed his perpetual glances while he fiddled with the machine. She saw the way he winked at her, knew the "whoopsie" had been less than genuine. In the chaos following she never had time to ponder it or even remember it. Puzzle out the why of the events.

But she refused to see it happen again. She would not rely on him like that.

She leaned forward a little more, "But that was too dangerous, John. I don't want... you getting hurt because of me. Don't take a risk like that for me again, please?" A voice, traitorous and dark, reminded her it wouldn't be the first person recently to die helping her.

Maybe he saw more of her than she planned the way his brows arched in surprise for a moment before he nearly dissolved into a puddle, his features at least. He looked at her so fondly, gentle the way she had only seen a few times. "I wasn't worried. And wouldn't you know it...? Ya nailed it!"

He risked his neck around all those murderous lunatics, put himself in danger with no definite way to get back out other than her. That was a lot of trust and a lot of recklessness. He might as well have been undercover with her for all he risked. He saved her life, again. She had a moment, flashing back to the first time she ever saw the man, that lightning-fast reflex, the quick way he put down two men, and that truly unnerving smile shining down at her. He growled about those men not being "nice" like it was both a crime of the century and biggest understatement of the year.

"Maybe, but that's not really the point." She pressed, not satisfied.

"Sure it is! We have each other's backs! That's all that matters." He smiled wide and happy, handsome in the strangest of ways that made her heart swell with fondness and something protective.

Still, there was something else bothering her about the new information. "John, how did you do that? How did you know..."

John's expression turned incredulous, "Know Bane was going to kill you? Seemed like a safe bet."

"No, no, not about that. Lucious would've put safeguards on the E.M.P. to keep you from doing exactly what you did."

That look turned sly but he tried to hide it, "Then I guess we both got really lucky."

Who on earth had this man been before he was committed? He was far more than he seemed, probably more than anyone gave him credit for. Luck had nothing to do with outsmarting Lucious' gadgets. It would take some serious intelligence or prior familiarity. Considering he knew entirely too much about he father, could he once have been an employee? Perhaps, in another life, worked with Lucious on a project? As far as she knew, Fox never saw a picture of John, and even if he had, who knew how much green hair changed his appearance since there was no way it was natural.

A loud yell, some kind of command from Bane made Brooke jump, honestly jump, jerked forcefully from her thoughts. She felt so safe in John's little home she forgot for a moment how close the battlefield still was. She clasped her hands over her knees, trying to find that center where the Bat rested in her.

Harley was mostly in hand. Sisterhood and a lot of guesswork fast-talking, and also John, helped win that.

Freeze, she felt she could handle. As John said, there was only one thing he respected, and she had already demonstrated her skills for him. That look and the slight nod from him told her what she needed to know. She had his attention, for the good or ill. Powers or not, she could use her wits with him and hopefully come out of it with her blood still pumping and unfrozen.

She was afraid of Bane, deep down in that fleshy, sour, untouchable place she left everything she did not want to face fester. He nearly killed her. She was still hurt from their last tangle. Looking at him was enough to tell her the first time that her usual tactics would not be enough. Facing him, she understood that he was stronger so she would have to be that much better; she thought she was better, if only by the sheer need to be, until he used that substance and got _that much_ stronger. Batwoman was not cowed and she did not give up, but failing stung deep. One man did not normally best her but he ground her under his heel. It shook feelings of inadequacy and vulnerability loose inside her, which she never handled well.

Batwoman would never be afraid of him, but Batwoman and all her tools had nearly been killed so where did that leave Brooklyn in the flesh? She hated it when he grabbed her, displaying her lack of control and power, dangling her in the air like a doll. She hated being picked up but having it done like that, cuffed and at the mercy of others, that was unpleasant on too many different levels. She understood it for the mind game it was but understanding did not lessen the burn of it against her pride.

She never wanted to see the man again let alone try to win him over. There was no choice though.

"How do you do it?" She asked before she could think it over, just floored by John's ability to face down absolutely anything without blinking. It was like nothing frightened him.

He cocked his head to one side, bird-like, questioning, "Do what?"

"Face them every day? I suppose. Bane... Freeze... Freeze doesn't worry me as much as Bane. He's logic and calculation without much emotion, but Bane is a fanatic, driven by imagined ideals he seems to make up as he goes, from what I can tell. His code seems to change when it fits him, he's volatile." She didn't use the word fear because that would seem weak, using worry sounded less pathetic.

He watched her a moment before standing slowly, straightening his back at the very end, like he was stiff. He tugged open a drawer and pulled something from it before he came to her side, sitting beside her even though he must only have had a sliver of space to sit. He grinned that happy show of teeth she used to find sinister but now found entirely endearing.

When he snapped the old style cut throat straight razor open inches from her face, she didn't flinch. It surprised her to realize it was not to do with her training but because she knew bone-deep that he would not hurt her. She trusted him implicitly, even with a blade right under her nose. She took a look at it, at the shiny, slender green handle, noticing the little HA HA's painted on in purple.

"This is my lucky razor." He explained excitedly.

That was his explanation? But no, he got that wrinkle between his brows, focusing, searching for words.

"I've noticed that you don't keep any kind of weapon on you, which is fine. It's not really the best idea to carry things openly around here when you're new, but I'd imagine it might make you feel... less equipped." John shut it and placed it gently into her palm, "Not that I'm saying you should ever pull it, but if you ever really, really needed something, you'd know, in the back of your mind that this is hiding in your pocket. I think... it might... give you a little confidence boost." He grinned so wide at her she thought even he might split his lip, "That's all you need! Just a boost, a shot in the arm. I know you've got this! All you need is to remember that."

Her fingers curled around the blade. The gesture was odd but also indescribably sweet, as was the little pep talk. He really had so much faith in her, or he let her think he did. It was... it made her chest feel warmer inside. Having someone so devoted, so in her corner was unfamiliar. Alfred was always there for her, but usually, other people were less consistent. Friends one day, enemies the next. Harvey had been the closest, but that ended rather poorly. John might be her new, less politically inclined, Harvey. Hopefully, this friendship did not end the way that one did. She was running admittedly low on friends since her father's criminal reveal. John though, he knew a lot of her darkness and didn't shun her. He saw her soft side and her claws, and somehow, liked them both. She did not know anyone else like that.

It sort of made her throat want to close up. She hoped John did not end up like Alfred either, teetering on a breakdown after everything he was put through because of her. Her "piercing accident" would always remind her of what she nearly lost.

He stood and she stood with him, expecting the talk to be over. She even started to leave, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. His body pressed up against her back when he reached around her to wiggle a full bottle beside her ear.

"Prisca?"

"Bane loves that beer. I bought some for when I need to talk to him. He's scarier than anybody in Arkham." He settled the bottle into her hand, "It can't hurt to bring it along when you talk to him."

Telling her he was afraid too, letting her share a vulnerability with him might have been the kindest part of that.

She gripped the neck of the bottle, turned to face him, and did what she almost never did. Chin settling onto his collarbone, she circled her arms around his narrow waist, "Thank you, John. For everything. You're a better friend than I deserve."

He made a little choking sound and she thought she might have overstepped somewhere, but he hugged her back with sudden fierceness. Too tight for her tender ribs, and she struggled not to groan at the unintentional abuse, "Brookie, don't say that. You're the best friend a guy like me could ask for. I'll always help you if I can."

She let herself relax into the hug even if it hurt a bit. "Best friends forever." She echoed the cheezy line that usually did not ring true. Forever was a long time. It was a comforting sentiment though, all the same.

* * *

This chapter was kind of all ground work.

Seeing up for the real story so it's not my favorite but things will be better from here.

Was I the only one that thought it was rude of Bruce to just take the bottle and not thank John? Stuff like that just bothered me, little things like that bothered me!


	2. Chapter 2

**Telltale Bats**

* * *

Nothing about being undercover was comfortable. Her every move went against every grain, every fiber of her being. She expected it, dreaded it, but feeling it first hand rather than in theory was far beyond what she was prepared for.

It was supposed to be more simple, to an extent. Get in, set the trap, and get out. That had not worked, the trap sprung without a prize, leaving her without options. Maybe it failed because they had not really known who or what sort of criminals they were dealing with. They all went in mostly blind, or at least, Brooklyn had been mostly in the dark.

Batwoman courted death, and Brooklyn Wayne did as well, but not quite like this. She had expected to die more than once on her mission, waiting for the gun in her face to explode right along with the temper of the person holding the weapon. Though, in all honesty, something inside her really did take comfort in that razor hiding in her pocket.

She would never admit it, never, particularly with how strained their overall friendship was after Harvey's descent into insanity, but Selina had been right. Brooke should not have been there.

There were too many times she considered giving up, walking out and never walking back in. She wanted to, so badly, but she knew better. Regardless of how tentatively they allowed her in, she was in, and as it was with any criminal enterprise, once in there were limited ways out. Being as well known as she was she could not very well hide from them. Not that she would run, but it helped with her resolve to know she couldn't.

Either she put them all away or she made sure they never found out she was a spy. Preferably they never would know, but logically she found that slim possibility less than plausible. As she supposed going in, there would ultimately be no way out. Ever. Even if they were put away, she would never be free, not really.

Whatever the outcome, a shadow would follow her likely forever. Either branded a criminal that got away because of her money, or as a snitching spy. This job would be a one-time thing either way. No one would trust her real face again, not really.

The likelihood of catching all these people as well as the followers, such as Bane's, was alarmingly slim. The more she knew the more she realized the odds were not in her favor. One or more of them would escape the initial capture the way Harley had, leaving them free and motivated to hunt her.

There was a high possibility her real face would need to go into hiding and she would likely need to take anyone close to her along. What would happen to the company? Well, that was hard to say. Riddler already bombed them once. She already had a plan in motion, things were in the works to prevent occasions like that, security and protection. Would it be enough? Unfortunately, she would not know until it was tested.

It was possible her company, her workers, none of them, would ever be safe again. It should have ended with Riddler's death, part of her expected it to, at least until Amanda Waller dropped her request in the form of a threat to her identity; which at this point, was becoming a moot point.

She wasn't one to leave a job unfinished anyway though, and the job wasn't finished. The longer it matched on the more she knew she had to sink the ship any way possible. The bigger the canon, the bigger holes in the ship, the faster it would sink. The trick was sinking it without drowning herself.

Brooke pulled into a parking spot a decent amount of distance away from the location. Plausible deniability was always good to keep in mind in case something happened. With a sharp twist of the keys, she killed the engine.

Seeing Riddler's body in that box had not made her sorry for his death. That bubbling miasma of hate had not cooled with his death. Watching him die stirred not one shred of pity or remorse, but it gave her no satisfaction either. A dark, secret part of her wondered if she would have felt something if there had been a second body inside if Waller died too. She did not care to examine that thought closely.

"Brookie?" John's quiet inquiry so close to her ear forced her to suppress a jump.

All her attention turned to the man leaning around her seat, chin resting on the leather back. Selina did not wait before she slammed her passenger side door and swayed herself away to take inventory of the surrounding area. Catwoman might not always use her best manners but she could read a situation rather well. She knew about distance particularly well; distance from dangerous situations, but she knew how to distance herself from people most of all. They were alike in some ways, the typical emotional separation being a large similarity; Catwoman kept people away to protect herself and Brooke kept people away for their own good, probably hers too. Regardless, she was thankful, very thankful to have the privacy for whatever he said to her.

She looked John over for a moment, him in his bedraggled glory; sleeves unevenly folded, shirttails parting untucked, not quite matching color shoes, too bright orange of the flower, and now those sunglasses. If she were to be perfectly honest, a lot of things about John drove her suppressed OCD tendencies up the wall. They made him look off balance and the whole picture made him stand out in any crowd. The longer he was with the Pact the more it showed clearly in visual form how it unbalanced him. Everything about the man was essentially advertised outwardly in his actions and in his appearance. He slipped a little farther every day even if he had been unbalanced to start with.

Brooke gripped the wheel a little harder before she found her voice, "Yeah, John?"

"I couldn't help noticing... you've been pretty quiet on the drive over, quieter. Withdrawn, even. And... you didn't answer the first two times I tried to talk to you."

"Sorry, I'm... " he curled his finger absently around a strand of her hair, distracting her in the same way his eyes drew her focus, complicating her ability to decide what to offer him in response, "distracted, I guess. Thinking."

"Is it the kitty? Is she bothering you? I mean, I didn't say anything but I could tell you two... seem to know each other and-"

"No." She cut him off, desperate to sway him off that line of thought, but fervent denials would be suspicious, she needed to divert him instead. "It's Riddler, actually."

He wound that strand of hair all the way up to the hair band, "Riddler? Why? Because of his body?" He gave her hair a tiny, playful little tug, "That's perfectly natural! That would have given anyone the creeps. Nothing to be ashamed of, Buddy!"

"It's not that." She felt the need to stop him there before he took her down that path any further, "Riddler was dangerous, he killed people for his own twisted amusement. I know neither of us was fond of him. He attacked Wayne Tower, almost getting me killed while he did kill my friend. He was conniving and vicious."

John seemed to misinterpret the direction she was taking the conversation because he let go of her hair in order to give her potentially the most awkward hug around the chair she had ever received, "It's ok! He's gone now, it's all over! He's dead as it gets. I am sorry about your friend, but Riddler got what was coming to him for that... You don't have to worry about it now."

She reached up and squeezed his bicep in something of a returned gesture, not exactly a hug, but it was close enough, "I'm not so sure we're clear though, John. He might be dead but I've got a feeling he has... more waiting. Traps he's still managing to pull the strings on. I don't know what he was doing but I don't think he was anywhere close to finished." She had his attention so now was as good an opening as she was going to get to warn him to be careful, "I've already lost people close to me because of this case, I don't want it to happen again. Promise me you'll be careful, very careful, from now on! Don't take any risks. Please, John?"

His eyes grew wide and round, his arms dropped away in a jitter, "Oh, Brookie! You-you... I... no, yeah, sure! I-I mean, of course! Everything is going to be fine! You'll see! I'll be caution personified!"

"Thank you, John." She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. It did not pass her notice the way he shivered at the contact but she decided it was best if she did not ask why. The answer could be something she did not care to hear. Pushing it all out of her mind, she threw the car door open and went after Catwoman.

The three of them searched the area, though Brooke did have to step off to the side when Waller called. Deep down she was fairly sure that was another item to add to the list of things that might get her killed in the near future. Keeping in contact was just as dangerous as dropping off the radar. Either way, it might end badly for her and it was bound to get her caught. If not for the thief, she might have been caught by John himself. At least she had someone else on the inside now that knew enough of what was happening to know how to keep other people away from her.

For her part, Selina neither seemed to like or dislike John, exactly. Though the same was not fully true for John, he did not care for their black cat even though he was as polite to her as she was to him. Brooke had to wonder if it wasn't partly her fault, if he might not like the other woman just fine without her. There was tension between the women even though they pretended not to know each other. Brooke had not fully forgiven her for abandoning Harvey when he was so in love with her and needed her support. Supposedly she had honest feelings for him, though she occasionally denied it, she felt something for her former mark.

It probably would not have saved him from his own madness anyway. Selina might have ended up as dead as anyone else too close to an explosion. Things were past help and she knew she projected a bit of undue responsibility at the thief's feet because of her own guilt over the failure. There was plenty of guilt to go around and they both knew it.

The Bat and the Cat patched things up, creating what amounted to a truce, particularly since she kept her secrets from the very beginning. Brooke had not been sure, there had been a moment when the coffin opened and the other woman prowled in, that she thought she was finished; cover blown. For a split second that shock registered behind red tinted goggles but it smoothed over without a ripple.

She trusted the thief, she really did, considering she had never given her up. According to her, girls in masks had to stick together. It helped that they mutually knew each other's alter ego, so betrayal could go both ways. Though, the more she talked about Riddler, the more Brooke suspected there could have been a relationship between them of some nature or other. She couldn't decide how to take that or what that would ultimately mean.

* * *

There were times when being right was a pain. At times she wished being pessimistic didn't mean she had a higher chance of being proven correct. Though she had hoped never to hear Riddler's voice again, neither had John, judging by the way he jerked back and made a face. The spitting tesla coils were proof enough of how much Riddler would not give up, even from the grave.

She hated the sound of the old man's laugh. It reminded her of something she couldn't place but knew she didn't like. Maybe it just seemed too much like the patented evil laugh every child that ever watched a Disney movie knew meant bad things.

One foot in the grave, he said. The video projection had no idea how accurate that was on too many fronts. His own death included. It was rather morbid.

She talked of redemption with Catwoman but a big part of her couldn't hold onto it above lip service in this case. Given some time to sort out her feelings and then maybe she could see it again. Once thinking of Lucious didn't burn a hole through her insides, maybe then.

"Alright, I'll go down and check it out." Brooke readied her toe to press the red button again and summon what they assumed to be an elevator but could just as well have been a pit of deadly spikes or something right out of Tomb Raider.

"Wait, you're not going by yourself." Catwoman crossed her arms under her ample chest, "No offense, but this is more my department than yours. I do this for a living, remember?"

"Why don't we all just go?" John cocked a brow at her suspiciously.

"Because someone has to stay up here to keep a lookout in case something happens." Catwoman countered simply, but Brooke was getting the impressing she wanted to talk. It wouldn't really be so easy to steal information away from Harley if John were around either, so there was that too. Of the two, Catwoman was probably the better choice.

"Then you stand guard, cat lady, while we go check it out." John insisted, that irritation leaking into his voice.

"It's dangerous, John. No way to know how many more traps he set down there. We'll just go down first to make sure it's safe." Brooke cut across anything Catwoman had been about to say.

That look of adoring wonder swept over his face like a lightning strike, "Brooke, you...you care about me that much? And here I thought I was losing you to her."

Brooke felt something like a slap, a good or bad feeling, she couldn't decide which. That poor, affection-starved man! Did he have anyone to watch over him? He just wanted someone to care, and why shouldn't he? It wasn't his fault he was drastically on the awkward and socially devastating side.

Maybe his dislike of Catwoman had something to do with jealousy as much as the rift between the women.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I care about you? We're best friends, nothing could possibly change that. You couldn't lose me if you tried." If the side-eyed look from Catwoman was any indication, she should be more careful what she let her mouth say. "Friends watch out for each other," she finished a bit lamely.

It was just the right thing to say in John's book though, it seemed because if he was glowing before, he was a strobe light now, "Right! Absolutely right! I mean... obviously. You just... be careful down there! Try not to die till I get there! Or, you know, after that either." He laughed the way he sometimes had in Arkham, bordering on creepy and too excited, which made her wonder what that meant. She would love to develop a guidebook on all the various meaning behind his different laughs. It would probably be entirely enlightening.

* * *

So much for trust and friends, she supposed. Perhaps she should have learned her lesson by now about such things. Amazing how she could be both an incurable pessimist and optimist at the same time. Things were bound to go bad when the Bat and the Cat worked together. Those involved in a truce through history tended to learn that it only lasted so long before the unknown time limit simply ran out on one or more parties. A thief was still a thief at the end of the day, she decided as she cradled reinjured ribs and tried to stand up from the base of the staircase. That fight had been going so well until Selina managed to turn the tables on her and throw her down an entirely too long set of metal steps. That move had not been anticipated. Metal stairs, yeah, it would be.

Obviously, she should have taken John after all.

"Sorry, Brooke, but I'm taking Harley's laptop for myself. And I'm finishing this my way." And there she went. Not sorry at all.

Fine, be that way! See if she helped that woman ever again!

Crawling to her feet slowly, feeling every one of those impacts plus the ghosts of those that had gone before and were not yet healed, and she suddenly cared a lot less about that laptop. In a few minutes, she would care a lot more, once her body was not on fire with too many aches and pains. Even her head and neck hurt, her teeth hurt too actually, but her ribs and spine were particularly loud about the complaints.

"Go drown in the river," Brooke muttered, not even loud enough for John to hear.

It was interesting though, she noticed distantly in the part of her mind most likely housing the Bat, that Selina clearly did not see John as a threat. She merely pushed him out of her way while running and she openly spoke of her intent. Did she not expect John to run to Harley about it or did she think she could get around Harley and the others either way? A third option was the Cat having an expectation of Brooke being able to convince him to keep quiet. No matter the reason, Catwoman saw no danger in John Doe. Brooklyn Wayne knew better, had seen his more dangerous side. Things had just become much more complicated. Though maybe she could convince John not to tell anyone. He had kept quiet before, protected Tiffany for Harley's eyes because Brooke asked. Not that she was feeling overly charitable toward Catwoman at the moment but it might still be better if no one heard about this.

"Easy... here." With one hand on her shoulder and one in the lower portion of her back, John fixed her posture back into a real standing position.

Brooke was not sure she fully felt gratitude with the way lightning shot through every injury, "Ffffffffuuu..."

"Fudge?" John asked, snaking his arm under hers.

"Yeah, that." Brooke huffed past gritted teeth. She kind of just wanted to roll around on the floor for a while, with less rolling and more sprawling uselessly.

"You gonna live, Buddy?"

No, she didn't really care to; "Probably," she said instead.

She would have been better if he had not spent his time taking pictures or a video, whichever it was. There were moments she could punch him. Actually, she just wanted to punch anyone at the moment just to share the misery. That too would pass once she gathered herself. She could handle a little fall. Shake it off, she reminded herself. It was only pain.

"Good, 'cause I think you and I need to have a talk." She must have looked further pained because she felt his fingers begin to rub comforting circles on her shoulder blade.

"I don't think it's exactly what you think." She tried, hoping to talk her way out of a potentially bad situation.

"You and Catwoman were going to steal the laptop but something changed down there and she doublecrossed you."

"That's... one interpretation."

"Is it wrong?" His voice got low and knowing, eyes sharper because he knew he was right and dared her to lie to his face.

She didn't. She found she had no desire to lie to him and silence was probably best. He had a way of making her want to be honest with him, to be real and genuine when she was with him. To an extent, he knew her better than most people did. She let him get close without realizing it until it was already done. Maybe it had been because she was drugged when she first met him or maybe it was because something in him called to something in her.

With a sigh, she pushed his hands away to clearly indicate that she was fine standing on her own. Just because it hurt was no reason for her to lean on him indefinitely. There had been worse done to her on many occasions, though she normally had Kevlar working on her side. Still, she felt that metal skin the same as if it had been there, hiding under the surface and it demanded to see better from her. The Bat did not allow pain to slow her down and she never would. The pain was nothing more than the brain alerting her she was injured; she was aware she was damaged, and therefore she could disregard the warnings. She could not afford weakness, not in this case.

"Let's go somewhere else." He tugged on her hand and she followed easily.

It was a strange feeling that came over her, like she wanted to curl into him and never come out. She wanted to follow him regardless of where he intended to take her. Foolishness, really. She was a grown woman, independent, and the only person she needed was Alfred. She did not need John any more than she needed anyone else. It was residual feelings of loss since Oz, Harvey, and Fox, nothing more. No use going soft now.

A voice helpfully surfaced in her mind, ' _Friends have the easiest access to stab you in the back'._ Right, there was that, and Harley wasn't wrong.

* * *

Cafe Triste. Outside seating, cozy enough, clean, and well planned out as far as the aesthetic arrangement. It felt like being somewhere else, somewhere unconnected to Gotham or the problems therein, which she supposed was likely intentional. She felt fairly comfortable there even if there were a few random patrons scattered around the tables in the vicinity. While she would be surprised if at least a few of them did not recognize her she also did not expect them to pay more than cursory attention to her. Brooke dated with more than slight regularity; most people said she would go with anyone that asked, so even John would not earn her more than a very slight raised brow from the public at large. It did not matter so long as no hungry, crazed paparazzi jumped out of some random shrubbery to plaster their faces all over the front page of a million tabloids. She could not really say she expected that to happen so she could assume they were safe for the time being unless Harley came looking for them.

John had quite a monster of a drink in his hands, all sugar and caffeine swirled together under a mountain of whip cream. Though she had no idea what he ordered she believed it was some kind of frappuccino concoction. Alfred would kill her if she drank something like that and then he would force tea down her throat until he deemed her adequately redeemed. It looked like a sugary death waiting to happen in her opinion, though part of her almost thought it looked good. Maybe in a drastically smaller size. For her part, she stuck to a very ordinary espresso. All the kick of caffeine without the intensity of the sugar.

"So, John, about earlier..." Brooke ventured tentatively.

John eyed her from around his drink, "I suppose you want to tell me you weren't plotting with her, you two didn't cook something up behind the scenes... to steal from Harley?"

Brooke sighed, tipping her head back a bit, "...No." She finally said, "I wasn't going to say that."

"By all means then... enlighten me." He set the coffee mixture down and leaned forward, fingers linked under his chin.

"There isn't much to tell, really. Both Catwoman and I wanted to see what was on the laptop and Harley's got no intention of parting with it. So, yes, the plan was to steal it."

"And the little kitten decided not to play by the rules, huh?" John grinned, clearly amused.

"It looks that way." She conceded.

"Can't trust anyone these days, am I right?"

Brooke cocked her head to one side, "Aren't you going to ask me why I want it?" Now, why would she ask him that?

He pursed his lips and shrugged, "No. You have your reasons, obviously, but the reasons don't really come into play. Not when you're stealing from Harley."

She listened to his ramble about theft, which people he thought he could steal from, about the new prospect being "enticing" for its parameter outside his self-drawn lines. He was more tense than usual, wound into a tight cord that seemed nearly ready to snap if pressured wrong. She did not want to be the cause of that, so she sat very quietly and let him work through it.

He was something close to angry with her, like he had been when he showed her his discovery of the tracking device. Admittedly, that had been a foolish choice, one made out of nothing more than desperation. He forgave her though, rather easily. Perhaps she could sway him to forgiveness again.

She decided it was time after he began tossing out annoyed semi threats about telling Harley, "I'm sorry, John, I should have just told you. I just... didn't know if you..."

That put a pause on his new topic, his attention was with her.

"You've done a lot for me recently, John. I didn't want to involve you in another thing. I know... how you feel about Harley... and I didn't want to put you in the position where you would have to pick a side. I thought if I didn't involve you things would be easier, safer, for you and I wouldn't be asking you to lie to her again. "

He grew quiet, even his body stilled, the mental wheels clearly running, "I can see that..." A little of that slyness came back to his eyes as his voice lowered, "And I bet you weren't sure which way I'd go this time either, right?"

He wasn't anyone's fool, she wouldn't treat him like one, "No, I didn't. I didn't want to force you to either way, but now I don't have much choice but to ask you not to tell her about this."

His shoulders sank a bit and his eyes lowered, "I don't know, Brooke... I'm torn here."

"I know, I didn't want to do that to you. I understand why you're angry with me for keeping it secret, but I thought it would make things easier. You..." for some reason she couldn't say love, "feel loyalty to Harley, and I understand that too. But we're friends... right?"

"Well, yeah... but Harley is... Harley." Every time he said Harley's name with that nearly purred emphasis, something in her wanted to shake him. "Just thinking about her makes me feel like I'm floating." John mused.

Something about hearing that made extreme annoyance rise up in her. It took biting her own tongue you keep from rattling off facts about chemicals in the brain manufacturing that feeling so often described teenage, puppy love. She wanted to tell him those feelings weren't real and they faded as time passed because the brain got used to it. It was called infatuation. She didn't say it.

"She's the most intriguing creature to ever grace me with a demeaning insult." Somehow he said those words with a smile, made it sound positive, but she couldn't help the way it made her frown. "Which is great, don't- don't get me wrong. I - but - I want more, Brooke." He looked sad and it made her ball her fingers into fists. "Like you and that politician a few months back. The way you two looked at each other, always standing together on camera." He sipped loudly from his straw.

Brooke nearly swallowed her tongue.

"What was that like? I mean until he threw you in Arkham after you helped him in the election."

She managed to wrestle an indifferent mask on and casual shrug, "Not much to tell. We were just friends until... what happened."

"How about that guy that stole your company? You two obviously had something going, history. Anyone could see it while you two whispered off behind the scenes just before your speech and before you tried to rip his face off."

How in the-! His skill for finding weak points was uncanny. "Same story mostly, we grew up together, we were friends, but now he's just another criminal in Gotham. There was never anything between us, not with either one of them."

"Oh, you must be blind then, Brooke! I told you, I'm a watcher... and watching them with you, ahhh... not even just them, the way a lot of people look at you... they see _something_ in you." He sighed wistfully, oblivious to the way she was crawling out of her skin, trying to focus her mind on anything, even just her coffee. "If only Harley saw me. Like _really saw me_."

"She sees you, John." Brooke found herself saying, "I know she does. She told me once how much potential you had, and she's right."

He sobered, focusing in on her even more, a hopeful note in his voice, "She did?"

Time to try to turn it around if at all possible, now that she'd jumped off a cliff, "Yeah, and I agreed. There is a lot more to you than you realize, but other people can see it, I see it. You're a good man, John, you really are. I'm proud to call you my friend... because I see that goodness in you. You need... maybe some direction, from the right places, but you could do anything. John, you're amazing, more than most anyone I've ever met. Maybe, after all this... you could come work with me."

John seemed to be holding his breath, and when he let it out, his smile was radiant, "Wow, Brooke! That's... I don't know what to say. That's a lot, so much, to take in!" His eyes narrowed suddenly, "You're not saying that just because of the laptop-"

"No, John. I meant every word. If you came to my office tomorrow I would sign a contract with you. I would want you on my team any day. I mean that sincerely."

He swallowed and looked at the table, "That-that's... quite an endorsement! And... Harley really said that?"

She might throw her cup at him if he brought that woman up one more time! She didn't trust herself not to say something unkind so she nodded instead.

"You still want that laptop though. Am I right?"

Brooke frowned and nodded, "Yeah, what does that have to do with it?"

"Well, I thought you could give me some advice about Harley... I know you say she sees my potential but...how to get her attention, get her to see me like I want her to, you know!" He looked exceedingly hopeful and endearing, that was the only thing keeping hot coffee out of his lap. "Since you're a woman of the world..." John paused, noticing the grimace on her face, his smile dropping into a nervous thing. "I mean to say... you've been around..."

It took some effort for Brooke not to grind her teeth but he clearly noticed since his smile fell entirely and turned to a tilt of distress. "That's not coming out right at all! I'm just trying to say that you have lots of experience..." the noise he made was the low frustrated growl so she knew she needed to step in.

Gently, she rested her hand on the top of his balled fist before he could bang it on the table. "I... yeah, I get it. It's-it's fine, John, I understand. "

He calmed, shoulders lowering from that tight wind, "Well, here is what I was thinking... we could come to an arrangement..."

"You help me with the laptop and I help you with Harley." She finished, taking in his huge smile and trying to gain that center Batwoman was so good at.

The edges of his laugh were darkening, "Basically, or along those lines. Tell me how you do it, how you draw them in like flies to honey."

She almost told him being rich went a long way but decided she did not want to get that idea planted in his mind or he might start robbing banks. "Well... I suppose you start by being yourself. You're special like I said before. You just need to emphasize your attributes, let them come out naturally."

He made a nearly disappointed face, but not quite, "So, be myself. I hear that a lot but... how can I be myself if I don't really know who that is yet? How did you know who you are, Brooke?"

She frowned, hesitating, "That's... a good question." She tended to only think of herself in terms of the Bat and how to keep her masks straight, but she could not say that, "I'm not sure anyone fully knows themselves, what they could be until they are tested in some way. Different things show us what we are capable of becoming or what we are deep down. Learning who you are is a process... People are always changing. I've done things recently that... I never thought I'd do, but here we are."

"I guess you're right. We're constantly evolving..." He started speaking in that way he had, an intense stage whisper that got deeper as he went along, "I can feel someone... a few layers deep. Pacing, like an animal in a cage. Just looking for something to start it..."

That sounded entirely ominous, particularly considering the crowd he was running with. Anything nurtured under them was... dangerous. John was better than that. "Maybe you don't think you know who you are yet, but I like you just the way you are. You don't have to change for anyone, John, just be who you are. That's more than enough for anyone. If they can't respect who you are, they aren't worth your friendship." She took another drink from her cup, letting the hot liquid glide down her now dry throat, "Like with us, John. You know me better than a lot of people. You've seen a lot of my flaws and you've seen the better parts of me, and you like me anyway. I like spending time with you because you let me be who I am. In my business, that's rare."

There was that little shy streak he had, "You-you like spending time with me?"

"Of course, John." She offered him a smile containing warmth she did not have to fake. "You know I do."

"I like spending time with you too!" There was that bubbly spirit of his, but then he hesitated again, "Do you think you'll like the other me?"

Oh, she hoped so, she really did, "Do you like him, John?"

He cocked his head, seeming taken back by the question, "I... don't know yet. Maybe."

"Well, for now, maybe stick with being yourself, being the nice guy you are until you figure it out. People appreciate kindness. Even Harley. Probably."

John's fist slammed on the table to punctuate his frustration, drawing instant attention from the others seated near them, "But how does that even work?!"

Brooke couldn't help looking around in return and she spits out the first thing that came to mind, her own voice lowered to encourage him to do the same, "Bond with her. Lend a hand with a problem she has. Listen to her if she wants to talk about anything with you or let her vent to you."

"I don't know, I have a tough time just talking to her!"

Brooke sighed, ready to offer up anything she learned over the years with no idea why. She did not want him to get any closer to Harley, quite the opposite. The farther away from those people John was, that better.

There was his endless enthusiasm again, "Ooh! I've got an idea! Let's play pretend."

Well, he had her there, "Uh-what?"

"You be Harley. You know, like kids pretend to be other people, or people practice speeches." He looked at her expectantly, crossing his arms like he was waiting for a show, "Say something Harley would say."

"Alright, I'll give it a try." Brooke swallowed, confused as to how she got herself into such a situation and even more confused when she found herself trying to go along with it, "Ugh. Bane is... such a loser."

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about him?"

Oh boy... "Snuff out his light!" No, no, this was probably taking things in the wrong direction, so she shook it off, "I don't know what she would say."

He laughed like it was a joke, "I'd kill for some front row seats to that!"

Please, don't, she thought. But she smiled awkwardly back at him. Then again, she wouldn't mind seeing that fight either. At least not on her morbid days.

"Okay, now say something...uh... date-like. Like we're out painting the town red." Please, not in blood, please! Because that was not the mental picture she needed.

Fine, she could do it, tap into her inner fake date, "Hi John, I like long walks on the coast and boating. Do you like the ocean?" Teach him normal things.

It was more than a little startling when he grabbed her by the jacket from across the table, "WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME?!"

If people looked before, they were openly staring now. Even John noticed it that time and was appropriately chagrinned, at least to a point. He let go and calmly took his seat again.

"That's one way to get your message across." Brooke offered as offhandedly as she could considering she almost felt jittery now, "The-the direct approach. I see what you were doing there. That would clue her in right away."

"Really? I guess... I guess I'm just a natural lady killer." There were so many other ways to phrase that if only he used one of them.

"Okay, hit me. Another!"

If they were going to do this, she was going to go all out. She could imitate Harley's voice, she could get into character. "What was your favorite thing about Arkham, Puddin'?"

His face absolutely glowed, "Brooke, this is just UNCANNY! You sound just like her, it's amazing! I love it! You're so good at this!" He was looking at her with those happy eyes, but different from normal, "Okay, okay. Here we go... I enjoyed... the lights. They had a hum to them, felt like a blanket. Fuzzy, even. I miss that on the outside. It doesn't feel... as real here, you know? Out here, chaos seems to rule the day. It's loud and uneven. But you, Harley, you thrive on it. I could learn from that because I thrive on you... You're my light outside of Arkham."

It took a moment to process everything, every tiny piece of what he just drove home, "That's beautiful, John."

Brooke was very much not in the mood to play anymore. John needed so much help, probably more than she could give him alone. As safe as he clearly felt at Arkham, that was not really the place for him either. She needed to find him a place, one with humming lights and lots of calm. She could give him something like that, somewhere he could feel at home again. He was struggling on the outside and she had to wonder, as she often did, why they let him out when he was clearly not ready. She would need to find him some stability somewhere. The Pact was not giving him any of the things he really needed, they were exacerbating his problems. Maybe he never would fully be better, but he could be close, closer than he was now. She couldn't, just couldn't leave him like this, not to a world that did not understand him; not to Harley; not to the uncaring streets. More than ever she knew she had to save John if she possibly could. No matter what it took.

"'Harley?' I lobbed you a perfect pitch. You gonna swing or what?"

She missed everything he just said but she knew she could not slide back into Harley. Not without getting sick, though it was a little late for that. Part of her liked Harley but she cared about John more. He needed so much help! She was not up to pretending to be one of the problems in his life. It was too much.

She rubbed at her eyes and leaned her elbows on the table, "It's four in the morning, John. I'm incredibly tired. Can we, you know, pause this?"

He frowned a moment but nodded anyway, "Oh, oh, right, sure. We can finish this later."

"Look, I've got a penthouse near here. We would have the first three floors. You can have your pick of rooms. What do you say we just call it a night and sleep for an hour or two?"

"You mean, not going back to the station?"

"Just for a few hours. We can go back after we've slept. No one needs to know."

There was hesitation, distinctly, but she saw it the moment he decided. The nod was not even necessary, she already knew she had him. She wanted to get him into a place of his own, this was a start. Maybe she could lock him in until it was all over, until he was safe again. That was likely wishful thinking. Still, it was something to think about. Maybe not locking him in, but a proper plan to help him find and fit into a brand new life.

* * *

Note:I know, some of you are disappointed I didn't make it Catman, and honestly, I thought about it. The dynamic would have chanced a lot and it would have been interesting... but Selina is a really strong woman, she stands on her own. I tend to leave strong ladies as they are (or maybe my mind only enjoys flipping male characters? That could be) But I'm sorry if you're all disappointed with this aspect of the story. (Though, I play the friends card in game anyway so other than TT trying to get romance, it's not much different for me)

And I lied, I did end up including a lot of the date dialogue just because I adored it so much. After the end of this, things will change a lot because I decided. I know it's a game and fast paced but I like it slowed down where I can explore John and Brooke can try to do a lot more to help him. There was no signal that night in this version, nothing to take her away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Telltale Bats**

I was feeling Black Water- Of Monsters and Men

* * *

Brooklyn dropped the keys into the little decorative bowl on the table beside the door. John followed close at her heels like a puppy in a new place he was not fully sure of. She strolled inside, flicking on lights while he shuffled along behind. His eyes got wider and wider as they went along through the penthouse. The place was cared for by staff, it only took a call to the front desk to let them know you would be arriving and the fridge would likely be modestly stocked by the time the client arrived. It was decorated by professionals in a similar way to her home. She tended to have any place she lived decorated very much the same even if she tried to get a modern spin on some of it she cared little for modern, she liked the old ways best, but that tended to make it seem like she lived in a museum half the time.

John had a reason to be awed. The things she kept in a home were all ensured for more money than most people made in several months or more. She supported lesser known artists too, but she liked the classics. What could she say? She had a taste for the grand things. She also had a taste for being high up, almost always the top level of any building she owned space in. People supposed it was for the view but she tended to like keeping control of the rooftops in her general life. When she said the first floor, she was talking the highest she could get.

The front desk seemed a bit surprised when they noticed she had a guest. The widened flicker of wrinkled eyes in the manager was smoothed over swiftly enough but she noticed. She could not decide if it was John himself that drew the reaction or if it was because she never, in all her time owning penthouses around the city, brought a man with her to one. She never let anyone into her space, at least not if she was there as well. The feathery eyebrow raise was almost amusing when she ordered John put on the list of people allowed access to her portion without a time limit or any restrictions. She never did that with anyone but Alfred either, but of course they complied without comment. When people paid as much as the tenants of the building did just to walk in the door, the staff tended to let them have their eccentric ways. Owning space there was like keeping a room on reserve in Hotels. While she almost listed John as an associate, she thought better of it for the time being and simply put him down as a guest.

"This is... quite the place!" John grinned at her, wide and excited. "I've never been in a place this nice before, I don't think."

"You are free to come here anytime you like, whenever you like." Her shoes were almost loud on the wood floor of the dining room she was showing John through. "A call to the front and they will send up food for you to stock the refrigerator so you don't have to shop for yourself."

"What kind of place is this?" John asked skeptically, though seemingly amused, "I've never heard of a landlord being so accommodating."

"They are if you pay them enough. The pampered rich are used to demanding convenience and getting it."

"Are you pampered, Brooke?" She could tell he was teasing her.

"Yes, I expect so. That's what comes with the family name, even now."

"You mean even after they found out Daddy wasn't as squeaky clean as they thought, it's still money?"

"Yes, that about sums it up." She admitted more quietly.

"So," the slyness of his voice indicated the merciful subject change before his words did, "do you bring all your illustrious, famous men here for whirlwind romance they put in the tabloids?"

She shook her head as she took him to the next room, "No, you are the first."

He surprised her by taking her hand to force her to turn back to face him, "So, I'm the first illustrious man you plan to romance here? Why sweep me off my feet!" He was still playing, she could tell by the huge grin on his face, so she smiled in return.

"Is it working? Are you swept off your feet yet?"

Something flickered over his face, something a little more serious but unreadable, then he was back to the same grin, "Oh, definitely! How could I resist?"

Since he still had a hold of her hand, she used it to pull him into the next was impressed by her "home away from home" though he did complain about her general lack of color choice. He seemed to think the paintings with color was not enough to drown out the black and white of the rest of the house. He insisted she needed more in the line of "splashes" of color to her life. "How do you feel about purple or maybe green?" He had asked cheerfully like he had plans. She pointed out all the advantages to her color choices but he never seemed fully convinced. In the end, she made him promise up one way and down another not to ever sneak in and paint the place. She picked up on his use of loopholes and she attempted to leave him none so she would never arrive to find her walls in various violent shades of vomit inducing color. He was overdramatically crestfallen about the promise.

"You aren't very adventurous in your choices, are you? Very... structured." He eyed her, seeming to pick at her surface aspects to sink much deeper. "You like to be in control, have everything neat and in order."

"Is there anything wrong with that?" She was only mildly defensive, more worried than anything.

He offered a pixieish smile, "Maybe you need to learn to unwind a little. Let go sometimes, you know? It would probably be good for your health."

"I can't really afford to let go. I have a lot of things to keep up with." More than he knew.

"You can't live that way forever, Brookie! You have to live a little, at least sometimes. I could... show you." A sudden hesitance came over him and she wondered at it. "Show you how spontaneous feels."

She looked deep into his eyes, trying to understand the meaning she was sure hid underneath,"You probably could." She admitted quietly but knew how dangerous that could be. "Now that you've had a tour, what would you like to go back to?"

John nearly bounced on his toes, "That TV room! That was amazing! Could we watch something? I've never seen anything like that outside a theater!"

It was supposed to be impressive because this was one of her show houses. While she never brought a man here, she did send business clients to this place to let them rest and relax before meetings if they were out of state and often out of the country guests. The entire place was for leaving an impression and little else. She almost never personally stayed there. She would give him access to all of her places if he allowed it so that he would always have a place to run if he needed it. There were few people she allowed such things. She never did it for Harvey and she let him have anything he wanted.

Brooke was not in the habit of pitying people like this, except in Harvey's case, or with Lady Arkham, or maybe Oz too. But she did not go around trying to take in every stray, lost soul she found. Not exactly. She was not exactly good at saving anyone anyway, now was she? Perhaps because she got to them all a bit too late and did not take the right steps when she had to.

It would be nice to save someone, this time. Maybe she had gotten into John's life at the right time before he was too lost to rescue. She could hope. Lord knew she would never forgive herself for the others. If she could get it right this time, not that it would blot out her sins, but it might be a step.

She chuckled softly, more for him than because she was amused, "Of course, John."

When she took him back she sank onto one of the loveseats and he joined her only to bounce right back up to examine the collection of movies on the wall. There were a plethora of choices, mainly nothing she would care for, but the movies weren't really for her, none of it was for her except the roof. Watching him reminded her of seeing children outside toy shops around the Christmas season. It brought an actual smile to her face because, honestly, it was endearing. Dare she say cute?

John crashed down next to her again, bouncing her with the force, "Sorry, I almost forgot you said you were tired, I didn't mean to keep you up so long!"

"It's fine, really." While she was tired she found she enjoyed seeing him excited as much as she might have liked to sleep. "I'm just glad you're enjoying yourself."

"You can go to bed, I'll be quiet as a mouse! I know my way around now so you don't need to stay up with me." He waved a hand at the system, "Do you... mind if I watch something? I'm not really tired... I would keep the volume low."

"No need, there are Bluetooth headphones in the table drawer. Everything is mostly sound proof anyway."

He reached out and slide the drawer open, brows raising as he lifted the wireless headphones out, "Fancy!" He muttered, seeming to take note of how expensive the model was, "I think you're trying to spoil me on real life."

Brooke smiled and let her head rest back on the couch, "Never, wouldn't dream of it. I'm just showing my former date a nice time."

He laughed before he pulled a movie down. She had no idea what he decided on particularly after he settled the headphones on. The credits seemed to go on forever as she watched in a trance. She was tired and there was something about the motion that seemed to lull her a bit. She could not understand why John was still feeling so chipper after he must have been up as long as she had. Perhaps neither of them slept regular hours, which was highly plausible. With her training, she could probably last far longer but she had found with her injuries, her body wanted to sleep. It probably had to do with sleep being a refuge from the pain.

* * *

When Brooke blinked her eyes open she found herself very nicely placed on someone's warm lap. There was a blanket over her and the feeling of contentment was difficult to shake away. She felt drunk off of sleep and she knew it was very likely a bad thing. She tended to oversleep when she felt like this. It was a pleasant state of being and she always found herself loathed to come away from it, which was why she knew she had to.

Very carefully she propped herself up on an elbow, avoiding crushing the set of legs and body she was tucked against. John's head hung back on the soft pillows of the couch, he legs had been curled up around her to make her comfortable even though he was mainly still sitting up. He looked comfortable enough but she would bet he had a crick in his neck by morning if it was not already morning or even past that.

When she checked her watch she was surprised to see she was only missing an hour and a half from her recollection of being awake. She felt like it should have been much longer but she had no intention of complaining about sleeping better than normal in a shorter amount of time. Her mind was covered in that fuzzy state of wakefulness without being fully alert. She wanted to think she was entirely coherent but she doubted she was just yet with the pull of sleep still calling insistently for her to return.

On the tableside, a little dish sat with what looked like half a turkey sandwich on it. She wondered again how much sleep he could have gotten even though it did not take very long to make a sandwich or for him to eat one. She had seen him eat before and while he was not rude in the way he eats, it was just that he seemed to have such a large mouth that everything was gone in seconds. Then again, most men seemed to eat that way, even some rich ones that should have known better how to savor well-prepared food.

It was a surprise when she felt eyes on her and realized John had woken as well. He grinned sleepily at her before he stretched, arching his back like a cat and stretching his arms over his head. From what she could tell he did not seem to be suffering any pain from stiffness and that was rather good.

"Goodmorning, Starshine!" He chirped happily, though she was not at all sure how she felt about that particular nickname.

"Goodmorning, John." She returned with less pep than he seemed to have, suppressing the yawn looking at him made her feel bubbling up.

"Did you enjoy last night, because I certainly did!" He was nearly glowing and the irony did not escape her.

Brooke managed to keep her chuckle almost entirely to herself because she was nearly certain he had not meant it as innuendo or a hint at things other men would have been talking about after waking with a woman. "What did you like the most?"

"Oh, everything! This place, the coffee shop, the little death trap! It was all a pretty exciting night! Took me a while to wind down."

"How are you so chipper after so little sleep?" she asked, puzzled.

He shrugged mildly, saying, "I suppose I don't need much sleep most of the time. I never slept that much in Arkham either."

She settled her head onto his ribs because she already missed that feeling she had upon waking, "I don't see how you find the energy."

He rocked her with a laugh before he settled a hand on her head, petting absently at her hair. While he was at it she hoped he smoothed out any of the sleep tussled look she supposed she must have from a night on the sofa. Overall, she must look a mess. What little makeup she usually had on while she was with the Pact must have smeared or rubbed off. No doubt she looked like a zombie. She found herself very much hoping he never thought to take a photo of her while she was sleeping. The papers would have too much fun with something like that, one of the many reasons she never let anyone stay near her while she was vulnerable in sleep. It surprised her she could even fall asleep while John was so close to her or how he managed to situate her in her sleep unless she accidentally curled around him herself. Disturbing if it was true.

When she shifted she was instantly reminded of her recent trip down the stairs. She flinched, really noticing her hip and very much her knee.

John noticed right away, "You okay? Need me to get you some ice?"

No, ice did not sound pleasant at all. What felt good was the warm blanket over her and John's body that had formerly been acting as her own personal heat pack, "I'm..." another shift had her gritting her teeth, "fine, thank you. I just need a minute."

He continued the petting, acting like she was his cat, but she could not say she really minded. It felt nice even if it was something she never allowed from anyone else. With John, somehow, the display was permissible in her mind full of checks and balances, for whatever reason. It would have felt wrong with anyone else but it felt almost natural with him. As a rule, she was never a fan of being touched, particularly not by men considering the usual line up of ulterior motives. For all her exaggerated reputation with men, she never really allowed them to touch her. Actually, she had a far more secret reputation with any man she had taken to bed, one they all knew but never spoke of. No one was allowed to touch her; the rules were always settled the first thing, and that was rule number one. If they broke her rules they were out the door instantly, dressed or not.

John, she allowed to touch her. She let Harvey touch her too, and Oz, but that was the extent. There was a very short list of those she allowed to casually touch her outside of handshakes or other such fake social pleasantry actions. She kept her distance from people because anyone could be a threat, if not to her health, to her mind. She really should not allow John the closeness she did considering the last two men she permitted this degree of closeness to, but she could not kick him out of her space so easily without reason. He had yet to do anything to earn her distrust. When he did, things would change, she knew they would. Change was inevitable, so it was likely one of them would need to pull away at some point. For now... a little human warmth was pleasant.

This close though, she could swear she could feel his instability as a tangible, living thing, sort of the way he described it, pacing. She needed to do what she could to keep it locked up, she had a feeling it wasn't to be let out.

"Did you ever read Harry Potter?" John asked out of the blue.

Brooke blinked, hesitating, "Uh. Yes, but it was a very long time ago. I hardly remember the series."

"Who was your favorite character?" He seemed honestly interested and she had the instant feeling it was a trick question or something oddly personal like he was using the question to learn something she did not know if she wanted to offer.

She thought a moment, mentally trying to sort through names she remembered from the books, "McGonagall, I think. The one that could turn into a cat."

"Interesting!" He chuckled low and a little too long.

She decided against asking him what his favorite was, a little afraid to know that answer. Just like she regretted knowing what he liked about Harley, really. "The way she lets things escalate into violence." It was not something she really had a desire to understand and the answer could be unsettling. There was much about John that was unsettling but there were equal measures that were so innocent she felt desperate to protect them.

Brooke never was one to shut her eyes and hope for the best, she kept her eyes open and stared into the darkness. She could see the path John was heading down, she's afraid she has another Oz and Harvey on her hands. She's a little desperate not to go down that path again, watch yet another person be dragged away from her because she has become close to him in a way. She found him unnerving in Arkham, eyed him like anyone would someone so clearly dangerous. She noticed the way he manipulated the system, the way he always got what he wanted. In the end, she found herself liking him for that endearing side to his creepiness. It was not until she saw him again at the funeral that she really saw him, saw his instability, wrongfooted in a new world, and she saw how vulnerable he really was. He was sad and entirely too alone. Little wonder he was swept into the mess with the Pact, probably the way over half the criminals out there were looped into that life.

"I wonder... which of the four houses you would be... Cunning, brilliant, brave, loyal..." He mused softly, rubbing his fingers into her temple almost too hard and staring too intently. She did not want to know what he was seeing when he looked at her like that.

"Have you thought about my offer, John? About working at Wayne tower?" She asked, turning her face into the fabric of his vest. Sometimes she did want to hide even if it was not in her nature to stay that way for long.

"Oh, sure I have! But... I don't really know what I'd do there."

"I know you could do anything you wanted to, but we could start you out in the technical department. See if you are comfortable there since you did wonders on the EMP. I think that might be where your skills are highest but we could move you around a bit, let you try your hand at anything you wanted."

"That... sounds nice. I-yeah, I think that would be fun. I could... get my feet under me, learn where my... nitch is."

Brooke nodded against him, tightening her hold on him just a little. He had no idea how he captivated her, drew her in and held on. If she could only do the same for him, perhaps she could pull him back from that precipice he was standing beside.

There was nothing normal or well adjusted about John. No sense of boundaries or any of the little things normal people knew instinctively; like being quiet at funerals. Social cues were mainly lost on him but he was clearly trying desperately to learn.

The phrase "poor thing" had passed through her mind on multiple occasions with absolutely no sense of sarcastic leaning, just honest sympathy. With the way he spoke originally about her father, knowing what Thomas did to people that crossed him, she was occasionally afraid John's condition might be very much her family's responsibility. The lack of memories he hinted at suggested someone scrambled his brains.

John shuffled his feet, hunched his shoulders, and looked down any time he was unsure, which was often. He was unprepared for the real world, he said so himself. While she was indeed occupied with a great many other things she felt no less compelled to help him, and probably would have looked him up, later on, once Riddler was sorted, but she never really got the chance to see how that would have gone. The situation spiraled far faster than she had been able to control.

"Do you... ever wonder... what would have happened if... you never came to Arkham?" He asked the question in the same tone he used while speaking about the lights.

"I suppose I wouldn't have met you, we wouldn't be friends." They would have met though, just likely as enemies. Batwoman would have met the Pact one way or another. She just wouldn't have understood him. He would have been just one more insane criminal to add to the list.

Brooke hugged him tighter at the thought. She might have written him off, never understood he needed saving maybe most of all. It put a sickening twist in the scenario. How many people did she write off every day when she shouldn't. How was she supposed to decide? Maybe she should be committed more often.

"Unpleasant thought, isn't it?" Maybe he knew what she was thinking.

"I didn't see it then, but I'm glad I was sent there. Finding you was worth the trouble."

He chuckled quietly, "I'm glad we found each other, mysterious ways or not. I don't know... what I would do without you. You're my best friend."

"You're my best friend too, John." She admitted a little shaky. "Promise... we still will be... once this job is over?"

"Oh, of course, we will! No doubt about it!"

There were doubts and plenty of them. Were he to find out she reached out to him, joined the Pact, on entirely false motives... things could change. He had forgiven her for quite a few transgressions but she did know human nature enough to know that there was a limit. He kept trusting her and if she kept letting him down, eventually something would give. She had no desire to see that day come. Brooke was not ready to have another friend stolen away.

"Speaking of the job." John piped up again, "We still hadn't worked out what to do about the cat lady. Or the laptop."

She forced herself to sit up and ignore the aches and pains, "For now, we don't tell anyone about the little... issue with Catwoman." That choice was not out of the goodness of her heart, not really, but she couldn't say she wanted to see the other woman dead.

"Why? So we don't have to explain... your part in it?" He purred, voice almost sultry. "Don't you see how much easier it is for us if they have an eye out for Catwoman? We can use her to distract the others."

She swung her feet onto the floor and tried to seem less than totally desperate, "Does that mean you plan on helping me get the laptop?"

He grinned wide and nearly wicked, leaning his upper body right into her personal space, his nose brushing up against her cheek, "Say something in Harley's voice again and I think I'll be convinced!"

"Why?" She clenched her fingers together, trying not to show anything on her face.

"Because I like hearing you steal her voice." He said simply.

She was not sure if she could do it again, not without feeling she was making him worse somehow like she was sinking to the former Psychiatrists level. It felt like abusing his mind in some way, "I don't know-"

"You do such an amazing job!" He dug up those pleading eyes.

She did need the laptop, "Morning, Puddin'! I slept really well since you were right beside me. How'd you sleep?" Why did she say that? Why the hell did she say that? Harley probably would have said that in this situation, actually, she had a habit of flirting with everyone.

John's eyes widened and he let out a heavy breath, clearly entranced. He leaned a little closer and she saw the change instantly. His pointed nose nudged the side of hers, gentle, plaintive, puppy-like, and she knew exactly what he wanted, what the wordless request was begging her to let him do. Part of her wanted desperately to let him and it was a foreign feeling to want to allow someone to kiss her. She very nearly leaned in the rest of the way, but the other half of her twisted violently into knots.

"I'm not really her, remember?" She whispered, casting her eyes away to keep from revealing the storm of emotions welling in them.

John gasped, soft but distinct, the spell was broken, "No, I-I know. Uh, right." He cleared his throat and pulled away from her a bit, reaching for the remained of his sandwich; he started to take a bite before he hesitated and held it out to her, "Want some? It's not old, I didn't make it very long ago."

She could brush it aside just as well as he was trying to. There was no reason to think about any portion of that. Best to put it out of mind and ignore it. She was rather good at ignoring things when she so wished to. Compartmentalizing was how she was so good at what she did every night and came away from it during the day.

"Thank you, but no." She stood, pushing the blanket off her lap, "Why don't I make you a real breakfast? I'm rather good at Eggs Benedict or omelets."

His brows shot up, "Wow! There you go, spoiling me again!"

"Breakfast isn't spoiling." She countered, holding her hand out to him.

The smile he gave her might have been the most tender she had ever received before he took her hand, "lead on" and let her pull him into the kitchen. In the end, he finished the sandwich while her back was turned. She did not scold him for his total lack of patience but the Alfred in her almost wanted to. Once she plated the food and set it in front of him, he tucked in and devoured it all anyway. As she chewed her own mouth fulls, she couldn't help wondering if he got enough to eat. She knew he was far from well off and there was only so much he could really steal as far as meals. He was rather thin, honestly. She resolved to feed him more, going so far as to push her own plate in front of him and request he help her finish it. They finished the food and he helped her with the dishes, grinning impishly. She almost thought it might have been the most relaxed she had ever seen him.

While she only knew how to make a select few dishes, she resolved to cook for him when she could if it resulted in this sort of happy glow from him. Alfred ensured she knew how to make some things, or improvise what she didn't know, but he had always been the main cook. Later she thought she might ask him to teach her a few new things. The ones she remembered were mainly breakfast items so she might need to expand to other meals.

"Next time," he announced while placing a pan on the drying rack, "I'll cook for you."

"Sounds lovely! I'll hold you to it next time we come here."

John hung up his brush cheerfully, "And, by the way, I think you more than held up your end...so..." now the awkwardness slipped in again with his hunching posture, "...I'll help you get the laptop and I won't tell on your or Catwoman."

Brooke smiled, "Thank you, John! I knew I could count on you." She decided to adopt his way and held out her pinky to him, "Best friends?"

His grin was blinding, "And cohorts!" He agreed before linking his finger with hers excitedly.

She let go and stepped away. With breakfast in addition to sleeping, she had spent far too much time in one place. There were too many things she needed to do, like check in with Waller, and probably Jim. While she could not tell her old friend very much, she needed to give him something. He might have information she could use to her advantage. At the very least he would be keeping an eye on the Agency and she might be working with them but she could not say she was at all ready to turn her back on them.

"We should get going before everyone misses us." She offered simply.

John nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, definitely, wouldn't want that! Can't have them catching on!" He clapped his hands together and instantly headed for the door. "Let's get going."

Brooke followed him, scooping the keys out of the bowl as she went. They were out the door and headed for the lift when something seemed to stop him.

John paused, looking over his shoulder at her, "Do you think we could come back here sometimes? Like, really?"

"Any time you want, say the word. I've fixed it so you can come here with or without me, whenever you need it. If you need to get away from people for a while, need a rest, a break, anything... It's yours. "

John swallowed, seeming lost for any sort of response, "Thanks...I- thanks. You really are the best."

* * *

Note:Sooooo, I guess it's almost time for another episode! What Ails You! It comes out Jan 23 and from what I've seen, I don't think I'm ready for this! (I want it but I'm not emotionally ready for it)


	4. Chapter 4

**Telltale Bats**

* * *

The condensation drizzled down the smooth glass of the windshield. The moisture was cold, almost frozen it the air, fogging over the surroundings with ominous looming that Brooke hoped very much held no actual indication of the future. It was always a bit cold and foggy in the mornings, clouds rolling in of the waterfront. The wipers flung the water away when she flipped the switch, letting the engine rumble and warm.

John was still a little enamored with her car though, if he knew all it could do, she would bet money he would be over the moon.

"If I'd known these were your wheels, I'd never have stolen that beater." He grinned at her excitedly, like a slightly unhinged child in a candy shop.

She really couldn't help the slight smile her own lips responded with. He was... amusing. Like no one else. "Do you want to swing by somewhere and pick up breakfast?"

He arched a brow at her, "We just had breakfast."

With a deep rev of the engine she knew he would appreciate, she let the engine roar to life and take the head, driving out of the space faster than she normally would. She rather liked to indulge him.

He let out an ecstatic squeak, gripping the door and armrest. Grinning impossibly wide, he cackled erratically.

"Well, yes, but you could eat it later. It would provide us with an excuse for coming in late as well, in case any of them ask." And provide him with more food, just in case he got hungry in a little while.

"Ohhhh!" John chuckled darkly, "I see! Always thinking! That's why they pay you the big money, right? Other than you owning the company."

"I suppose. It pays to stay ahead of things like that." She conceded with a slight smile.

"I always knew you were brilliant," he tapped his index finger to his temple, "but you just keep proving... how cunning you really are. You play your cards close to the chest and don't... let people see... how sharp you can be. That spark! But..."

When he trailed off, eyes going distant, her lips moved all on their own in order to draw him back, "But what, John?"

Green eyes snapped back to her, intent and focused once again, accompanied by a slow creeping sheepish smile, "But- You... can't fool your friends. And sometimes I get the impression... you-"

When he paused again, she couldn't stop herself from pressing, oddly desperate to know what kept making him hesitate when he did typically spoke freely, "I what?"

He glanced to the side of her, contemplating, "Only... that you let me- sort of want to let me. Like we have something different, something no one else does. And you... sense it as much as I do."

Brooke could no longer use words, not even if she wanted to or thought it wise to. Her mind was racing and going too slow at once.

"Do you think..." there was his hesitation again, "we were really meant to find each other? Like, even Gotham knew we should find each other? Like the pulse around here... decided it should push us into each other's path?"

She gripped the wheel tighter, not even sure why her stress levels seemed to have rocketed. It was a struggle to weed out emotion from her voice and blank her expression, "Maybe. Who knows, right?" She didn't know what to make of the conversion but it might be best to do with it what she could, "If it did, maybe it means we needed each other."

John curled his fingers together for demonstration, "Like we're linked! Partners in crime!"

Not quite where she was going with that but she could work with it, "Yeah. Or maybe... with a brilliant mind like yours on my side, we could create amazing things, things that could change the world. If you agree to come with me after this job, work at Wayne Tower. It could be the beginning of a new start for both of us, you know?"

John chuckled, arching a brow high, tilting his head and grinning lopsided, "Still pitching to sell me on that huh? I can see that business...m- mind... cranking away." For some terrible reason, she thought he meant to, might have been about to say mask.

"I-I just want you to... know that you have a place. I want you-" this shouldn't be hard she was good at working people or even a crowd, "working with me. I don't..." She really needed some regroup time but that almost never arose when she could actually use it, "I'm not trying to pitch, I'm trying to let you know I really want us to stay together. Your friendship means a lot to me."

"It means a lot to me too, buddy!" John assured her with his typical wide grin, "It's good... knowing we have each other."

"Friends are hard to come by." She reiterated the thought she had not long ago, though she hadn't voiced it then.

"Especially special connections like ours. The special, life-altering, course-changing kind! The forever kind!" A little of that manic energy slipped into his voice, his body tightening, "The stuff of legend! We're going to be quite the power couple!" He seemed to mentally trip on the last words after he said them, "Er... You know, a fantastic duo, super friends!"

Brooke nodded, not finding the words she needed in her mind to offer. John had a way of making her go very blank. She could do verbal battle with high society, lawyers, mobsters, criminals, but throw John into her path and she blundered spectacularly.

"I think finding you," John continued like he was trying to distract from his former slip, or like he was distracted himself, "was destiny, buddy! Like with Harley, only different."

Nodding again she tried not to clench her jaw. It should not bother her. There was no reason it should bother her when he compared them. Then again, she was being compared to a psychotic killer, so that might be why. Who wanted to be compared to that?

"Where did you want us to pick up breakfast from?" She decided a full change in topic was best.

"Oh, well, how about... Taco Bell!" He seemed suddenly excited again.

"For breakfast?" She gave him a dubious look.

"They have a breakfast menu!" He defended.

Brooke found herself smiling again almost against her will, the tension in her forehead from the frown she had been trying not to let slip fled. "If it makes you happy, I'm game."

The strange, tender adoration was back on his face and she decided she liked seeing it there. She never liked being admitted much in the past but everything was different with John.

* * *

Brooke decided the confrontation with Harley went well. No one died. John said nothing about Catwoman or Brooke's intentions and thus no one was out for their heads. Granted, she did have to spill a little information on Lotus in order to keep the crazed harpy calm when they had no location to offer, but they could have been worse off.

Compared to everything else she encountered upon returning, having to tell Harley the operation name was highly inconsequential, nice even.

Harley had been the reasonably best option over what she found Bane and Freeze doing. It made her wish she stayed close, never stayed out for the night. Pleasant though it had been to have a little peace with John, too many lives had been lost while she was gone if the frozen bodies were clue.

It rang something like shame when she realized the man that spoke up for her was dead and she hadn't even really known his name until a few minutes before he was essentially crushed. It made her sick, honestly sick.

John nudged her with his shoulder. The nudged meant something, she felt sure, because he'd done it several times. There was a nudge for: "The people you kill there are faceless." A brush of fingers for; "We live in a twisted world, Brooke. Better to abide that struggle against it in vain." She thought he might be warning her against action but she was not quite up to trying to interoperate.

John stayed uncharacteristically close to her even for his usual disregard for personal space. He might have been able to sense how poorly she was taking the current events, maybe how she was only just managing to cling to her cover when all she wanted to do was let the Bat free. All the senseless death and she wasn't allowed to lift a finger to prevent it because she had a cover to uphold.

Upholding anything had never been so difficult. Restraining her desperate need to be the person she trained long and hard to be was like puncturing a full water balloon with a sharp pencil; soon she would explode. She knew then and there that she would eventually blow her cover, she just doesn't know how yet, only that it was inevitable.

When John pulled her aside she supposed it was best to be away from the situation but John didn't get the chance to get her very far before Harley followed, grilling them on the success of the mission.

The closeness of John was potentially the only thing keeping her from letting go, letting the locks free on her restraint, punching until it all stopped.

With the way Harley cocked her hip and arched a brow, Brooke realized she missed a question. She had stopped listening after giving up the information but it seemed the other woman had still been talking.

John rubbed his hands together nervously and grinned, "Definitely, we won't let you down!" He covered for her, whatever the question had been.

"See that you don't! I'm having enough problems as it is." Harley grumbled, turning to sway her hips away from them.

She walked a bit like Catwoman, Brooke thought. Not that it mattered. She probably walked like that herself. Hips just did that on their own after puberty rounded out certain things. Some women had more sway than others but it was all sort of similar.

Hey mind was admittedly bouncing. She was feeling helpless and unable to stop what she normally should have. It made her dissociate, distance herself from feeling by focusing on mundane, random things to keep herself distracted.

"There was no reason for that." She muttered to herself, under her breath.

"It's just how they are." John muttered back, surprising her a little that he heard her, "I know it... bothers you."

She didn't respond, shutting herself down a little further.

Nothing, no emotion would be present on her face, which was intentional. She strove for lack of emotion so far as her general aura. It was a little too late to cut herself off, she tipped her hand, but she couldn't think of anything else to do. Batwoman would never show feeling in this situation, she would be a rock. Why was it so much harder without her mask?

"It's okay," John whispered, gently assuring her.

It really wasn't. People were dead and she stood by, allowed it with little better than a token protest. She did nothing, went against everything she swore to do, and permitted murders in front of her eyes. She hated being Brooklyn, hated being unable to act, without her mask.

It was watching Timothy die that tipped her over, she knew. It was like all the other people that died helping her. She hated it! Hated Bane! Hated the Pact! Hated Waller! She felt like she was vibrating with rage.

She couldn't let it keep happening. She had to make it stop somehow. It could not go on for any reason. This was not what she signed up for! She intended to stop things like this, not help Waller turn her into a complete puppet for the criminal element.

This was why she had a mask, so she would never have to sit by and allow things like this. But Waller waltzed into Gotham and destroyed years of work with a few little words. She could have wrung her neck.

But honestly, she would rather strangle Bane with her bare hands, choke him to unconsciousness and haul him to Black Gate and never see him again. He needs to go into a deep, black hole where no one would ever see him again. She wanted to watch him fall.

Senseless murder! Even Harley seemed to know that, comprehend the sheer wastefulness of the acts. With a choice between Bane and the costumed woman, Brooke thought the men really would have a better chance with her. They might fall into line more easily than Bane thought.

John tugged her away the second he was sure Harley returned to her endeavor to reorganize the hierarchy and fully position herself at the top, which was a bold move for her considering the competition.

He lead her somewhere, somewhere he must have deemed safe, though it wasn't his little house, she found she didn't particularly care. Her mind had subconsciously cataloged each turn and the distance so she was confident she could return should she need to. Where John took her in Old Five Points was irrelevant save for the fact that it was blessed distance. She could feel the freedom distance provided, taste it like a, particularly fine wine. It settled nicely on her tongue and it lessened the cords of wire running through her body.

He jerked her down with him when he sank onto some old crates. It was trash, nothing but trash, but it might as well have been palace ready for how significantly better it felt than being surrounded by the others.

"Take a deep breath and let it out slowly." He advised.

She couldn't bring herself to follow the advice. "I'm fine."

"You're about to explode... And around these guys, that's bad for your health."

"Or theirs." She retorted with a barely restrained snarl.

"You're outnumbered." He pointed out logically.

"Does it matter?"

They fell into silence again and she balled her fingers into fists in her lap in an attempt to gain control of her into conflict. She wanted to dosomething! Probably something like dragging Bane out by his presumable lack of hair.

She felt... helpless and she did not deal well with that. It sent her into a spiral she knew was dangerous but her ability to care was thinning.

When John looped an arm around her and pulled her against his side, she resisted only slightly, stiff in his embrace. He shifted and squirmed until he could get her head resting in the juncture of his neck, his arm a heavy weight around her.

"Brooke?" John whispered her name so quietly, almost stricken.

He was undeterred by her stiffness, seeming more determined for it. It seemed more than pointless not to simply give in. Perhaps not dropping her shields but letting them recede.

She could feel her lashes bumping against his skin with each blink and she was amazed it didn't bother him. She could smell him, smell all the things she noticed hints of before when he was closer, and it was his scent that caused her to let go.

He touched her head, fingers sinking into her dark hair lightly, reverently, more gently than would ever be necessary, "Brooke? It's alright."

Normally she would never rest her head on a man's shoulder. It indicated intimacy and trust as well, she felt, as weakness. But she let him ground her before she did things she couldn't afford to.

There was no question in the way he ran fingers through her hair and rubbed careful patterns over her arms, that he was petting her. His fingers found one of her palms and began to massage into her flesh. "It's okay."

Honestly, it still wasn't. She hated death, even death of people society deemed unworthy of life. Death was such a waste!

"There was nothing you could have done." He was shockingly good at comfort, at calming her when all she wanted was to crack open skulls in retaliation.

She melted against him, tense muscles relaxing, eyes ready to drop closed with the sudden feeling of weariness. Indeed they did fall shut and she relished the initial sting of relief behind her eyelids. It was a familiar feeling, one she had after long, long nights spent patrolling. Closing her eyes felt good and it was a task to get them open again.

"I'm here." He murdered softly, peppering her temple with feather-light kisses.

Those might have been the first and only kisses she had ever received from a male that weren't sexually driven. They were innocent, utterly caring, affectionate in the deepest level. The kiss he placed to her palm nearly undid something in her, making her eyes prickle at the very back. Her breath caught and stuttered as she struggled to control herself. The emotional stir felt like too much and she felt her inner defenses activate, shutting down slowly and numbing what awakened so suddenly.

John Doe former resident of Arkham, arguably a far more broken individual than she, was desperately trying to comfort her in any way he could. The most heartfelt tenderness she had ever received by anyone other than Alfred and her parents was coming from a man that lived in such uncertainty that he didn't even know his own name.

He was astounding, honestly astounding. John was unlike anyone else, so different, so much better than anyone else in a lot of ways. She was unsure how she ever lived without him. Nothing about him was normal, nothing she expected to find herself needing. So how dare she take such advantage of him?

"It makes me angry." She confessed quietly, "So angry! I just want to..."

"Snap? Make someone sorry, very, very sorry?" He asked conversationally.

Her voice was oddly shaky, "Yes."

"It alright. Everyone has those moments. What makes you different, Brooke, is what you do with it. And you are different. You've been through hell but you still... manage to keep walking, chin up, shoulders back and never slack."

"You see me as being different?" Her voice sounded like tin to her own ears.

"Without question! You are... The most different person I've ever met! In a good way! You know, very good! Not Arkham different, though you're brilliant that way too, unhinged and dangerous! But you're even more different than that!"

Brooke took a deep breath. She had to be an example. She had to do better than this, teach him better than this. If she didn't teach him better habits then no one else would. There was so much to teach him and control was probably the best.

"I'm sorry." She told him even more quietly, "This behavior... isn't me. I'm just a little stressed but I'm fine now. I needed a moment but now that I've had it, I'm fine. I'm very grateful for you pulling me aside and letting me have the time I need."

His brow crinkled, the corners of his mouth turning down in a very thoughtful manner.

Brooke forced a smile, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

He looked almost sorrowful, "Don't, please, don't! Don't say you're sorry. It's- it's what friends do, isn't it? Listen to each other's problems, help each other?"

How was his grasp of friendship so much more advanced than her own? "Yes, of course, it is, I just-" Just hated to be the one to shatter his image of her? But he knew she wasn't perfect. What was she trying to teach him? Control, yes. But what about friendship? Did she not have a responsibility to offer him that too?

"You don't like it when anyone sees you're human. You don't want anyone to know." He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "But I'm afraid it's too late for that."

Brooke looked away, caught by the horrible truth of that, "I know. That was a mistake, showing-" she nearly bit her tongue on the word, "weakness," she ground out, "in front of the others."

John nodded a bit sagely, "Maybe they didn't notice." He offered.

"I shouldn't have allowed myself to become so emotional."

"Cut yourself some slack, buddy! You've had...a rough set of months." The delicate petting resumed, "It's not like you don't have a reason. I'm surprised you haven't blown up before now."

Being Batwoman usually helped with her stress but lately, she hadn't put on her real face. It would be advisable to remedy that fact in the very near future before she did what Waller did not want to see her do.

"The laptop." She mumbled bleakly.

"In good time, buddy, in good time! Soon, even! We just have to spring at the right time!" John hugged her to him once again. "For now, just take deep, calming breaths. Not too fast though, because then you'll hyperventilate."

* * *

Bane watched John with Brooke and took note of how close they were standing. He took note of how fast John took Wayne away as well. Once Harley was off on another project besides chewing his ear off, the hulking figure set himself as something of a guard.

Arms crossed and chest out, he waited and watched. He lingered for quite some time near the tunnel John spirited Wayne through, and was there when they finally surfaced for air.

They were, of all things, holding hands when they emerged, barely, fingers touching and brushing more than anything, but he wasn't blind. Bane knew what he saw, could even identify what he saw pass between them when they looked at each other. There was a connection there, one he was almost certain even they had not recognized. Others could see it.

He was surprised Harley hadn't spotted in yet considering she was a "trained psychiatrist" and everything. It would not take the woman forever you catch onto something he noticed almost since the start.

John looked and spoke about that woman like she hung the sun, moon, and stars. He looked at her like she was his world. A man did not look at a friend that way.

He waited until they separated before he lumbered the way John had sneaked off. He would not call it a confrontation, just a little man to man discussing.

"So, is Harley the wife and Wayne is the secret lover?" The large man offered by way of introduction.

Eyes widening, John spun around and shook his head in bewilderment, "No, no! It's not like that! That's not it at all!"

Bane crossed his massive arms over his barrel chest, "Then what is it like?"

John dropped his eyes to the ground, feet shuffling, brows drew down along with the corners of his mouth, "I... Brooke and I are friends! Really great friends! She's the best!"

"You mean 'close' friends? The kind of friend that comes with benefits?"

John flinched, the sparkle in his eyes he got from talking about Brooke fizzling out, "It's not like that... It's not like we've done anything, not really. I'm not cheating on Harley with her... not that Harley and I are together either... It's like..." he trailed off forlornly.

"Explain what it is like, John, can you?"

John finally looked him in the eye, clearly debating the issue with himself before speaking, "I love them both. Harley is the best! And Brooke is too, too wonderful for words! They're both everything to me! Just... you know... different... in different ways."

"You know, women don't tend to like it when you don't pick. They are never fond of sharing a man with another woman. Eventually, you are going to have to make a decision. Probably sooner than you expect. Women have a way of forcing the matter."

John looked so innocently torn and worried, "I could never... pick one of them... I love both of them!"

Bane shifted, dropping his hands to his sides with a shake of his head, "Listen, let me help you a little. You can't have both of them without things going sour." The wide green eyes made Bane sigh, "So here is what you need to answer for yourself; which one could you never live without. Who could you not picture yourself with forever."

John's answer was instant, "Oh, both of them! I just... couldn't picture myself without either one of them in my life! Harley is a wildfire, uncontrollable, she's my inspiration! She's my humming lights, illuminating anything she's near!" He came alive, hands making little motions when he spoke of them, "Brookie is a pond, calm and gentle on the surface, but keeping all kinds of monsters hidden underneath! She's depth and unshakable, she's someone you could stand beside and never fall!"

"All right." Bane conceded, "How about this question? Which one would you die for?"

Again, the answer was instant, that smile stretching unnaturally large over his face, "Both of them! In a Newyork minute!"

Bane nodded slowly, "Think carefully because this is maybe the harder question. Which one would you live for? Which one would you shape your life around, stay beside through anything, even if they hurt you, even if living with them took things from you maybe you did not want to give? In love, you always have to give up part of who you are. In this case, with those two, if you love both of them, you will have to lose one to keep the other. Which of them is worth having the other ripped away? Which is worth living for? Because Harley will kill Wayne if she finds out. Choosing Wayne means Harley will never forgive you; choosing Harley means no more Wayne."

John's smile wavered but held as strong as it could, "Harley... won't kill her. Brooke is one of us! She... she'll understand! Harley would forgive me!" He floundered, eyes darting several directions, "I know she would! We're a team! All of us!"

Even John himself didn't sound like he honestly believed those idealistic words. Team or not, they all knew it could be easily shattered. Harley was far from an exception to the rule. They were criminals. Blood it the water to a shark only meant one thing. The question remained to be seen; whose blood would it be? Impossible to tell but Bane had several hunches.

"Think it over." Bane lumbered away, having imparted all he thought he could. Anything more was up to the others.

* * *

Note:Because deep down, Bane so ships it. Freeze ships it. Catwoman ships it. Don't tell me no


	5. Chapter 5

**Telltale Bats**

* * *

When she sneaked away from the group with offered excuses of having to make appearances at her office, she never anticipated the outcome. She never expected to have anyone from the Pact appear before her while she was in her true face, let alone John. She could only assume he followed the signal, drawn like a moth to a flame on dark nights like she was, or she hoped so. If he followed her any other way she hardly knew what she would do because it would mean he followed Brooklyn Wayne rather than Batwoman. She did not think she was ready to deal with that kind of fallout just yet, or ever.

There had been something like a full circle, déjà vu, or twisted completion in the situation; seeing John Doe from behind the black mask. The familiarity wanted to bleed through but the Bat created walls around that sensation remarkably fast. It had been like a sharp drop into arctic waters to hear his voice on the rooftop, giving impressions of herself and Gordon. In spite of the horrible understanding of how close John was, how he managed to sneak up on a wisened officer and vigilante without either being the wiser until he announced himself, she found herself horrifyingly amused by his terrible interpretations. The amusement was violently smothered by the Bat. Being close to him frightened her and she responded in forced harshness driven very much by a tingling terror of those jade eyes seeing right through the mask and into the person under it the way he always seemed to.

They knew each other better now and it would be so easy to slip just that tiny bit, the way she had when she used the same wording to a question from Agent Avesta without thinking to change the response from one persona to the other. Very likely the reason Waller now had her nearly in her pocket. A few words were all it took to spell out doom for her and she knew it. John would forgive her many things, she was aware, but this was a different manner of thing entirely. What would John do if he discovered her?

She could not predict what he might do. But then, she never expected him to offer Batwoman his help either. She knew he admired Batwoman from his desire to have a picture of them together for his collecting; so full of glittering praise for her alter ego. It was almost enough to make her jealous of, well, herself. Now, once she faced him in the mask, she was all the more confused. He wanted her to take him on, mentor him, from the sound of it. It sent cold fear running right through her when she almost wanted to agree to the idea on the rooftop of the GCPD. Batwoman was not so keen on partnerships though, particularly as they had a very poor record of sudden death. It was with that thought in mind that she rejected him, but of course, John being himself, he had not really listened, and now she had him once again before her mask.

When she swooped down from her perch, his awed look of glee made her landing almost shaky. He looked at her like she was everything and she felt afraid of falling from that extremely high pedestal. It gave her a sense of trepidation that felt much worse than facing down an entire army or rubbing shoulders with Waller. She dreaded the day she would shatter John's ideas of her and she supposed it was inevitable if given enough time. What would she do if he hated either side of her? She had come to rely on that acceptance, even shamefully crave it considering well over half the populace of earth disliked one side or the other of her, or disliked both. John liked both parts of her and she could not fathom having that stolen away after so many times before when she fell out with an old friend. Of all people, she felt now as if she could not endure seeing John's eyes harden when he looked at her or watch a cold hate sweep his exaggerated features.

Harley wanted her to distance herself from John, wanted her to keep her "hands off" as if Brooke intended to abide by any "new rule" the woman planned to slap down. The woman objectified him and had the unmitigated gall to claim him as her property, even her toy. It had taken a surprising amount of restraint not to simply slap the other woman for her sheer nerve. Usually, it was a man objectifying a woman and had it been anyone but John, perhaps she would have found the paradigm shift of an amusing nature simply for irony, but it was John and that always changed everything. That might have been the moment she really understood that things were different with John. John wasn't the only different one, she was different with John too. Brooklyn Wayne held multiple double standards for the man and broke a hundred intrinsic, internal laws a day with him that she held herself to for more years than she could count. She let him into her personal space, let him under her skin, let him in, and she simply did not ever allow anyone in the way she did him. To an extent, she hid more of herself from Alfred than she did John, even with a secret identity, and there was something probably wrong in that.

"It didn't feel great, you know? Stealing from her." He turned his back as if he couldn't look at her and talk about Harley at the same time. "It felt like there was a little Harley with a halo on this shoulder telling me not to do it, and then the bat on the other whispering," he shifted his voice into an imitation of her modulated one, "'Just get it, John!"

Crossing her arms defensively over her chest, she viciously batted down the urge to tell him how sorry she was for making him do that. She did not care much for pressuring him, or did she? It was a step in getting him to turn from the Pact, more than a step, more like a huge leap. It was hard to tell how she ultimately felt particularly since she still did not fully believe he actually followed through. But, of course, he followed through for the Bat, so in a way, he 'betrayed' Brooke as well. She could not process that thought yet either. She was proud of him in many ways, impressed by his ingenuity and cunning. He made his own choices independent of Harley of Brooke and took the third option no one would have seen coming.

He might have been the best spy she had ever seen because everyone trusted him; at least she and Harley had, but he sided with neither. Of course, he might have simply decided no one should honestly be involved in what Riddler was doing and pinpointed the only safe person to allow the information was a seemingly incorruptible keeper. He was not, most likely, far off the mark there. He could hardly be expected to know why she wanted the information but the others likely had very nefarious plans for it. He was making a very wise choice, and she was about to say so when he turned back to face her with a near smirk.

"Or did you have the halo," definitely a sly, perhaps ironic smile, "and Harley the horns...?"

That one, clearly that one. Not that she would say so. Maybe he knew what she was thinking anyway by the smile he still offered.

"Though," John seemed even more talkative when he was unsure because he kept speaking like he desperately needed reassuring, "you must have run across this in your line of work. How do you deal with doing something... 'good'... when you might be hurting someone you love? Because it certainly didn't feel good. Quite the opposite, in fact."

She dropped her arms to her sides. It didn't feel good to hear him talk like that either, or have him say the "L" word. Even so, she did feel he deserved an answer after what he had done for her. She tended to feel obligated to speak honestly when he asked her anything with those big, pleading eyes. He tended to ask her things she had a lot of trouble answering too, things she was not sure she knew the answer to. She thought of every time she lied to Jim, or Alfred, or more recently, John himself. He was correct, it never felt good, but sometimes the truth hurt just as badly. Nothing seemed to cut as deeply as betraying those that trusted you though.

"Every time it costs you a little bit of yourself." She hesitated, dropping her eyes, "I wish there was an easier answer..."

"Seems like you can't do it very often..." John mused, "or there'll be nothing left." The way he looked at her with a bit of sadness, she could not tell if it was directed at her or for her, "Seems like a hard way to live, lonely even."

Lonely. She never used to be or consider herself lonely. People would drop almost anything if she so much as hinted at a visit, or a coffee date. The general populace flocked to her once upon a time. She had men lining up for a night on the town with her, desperate for a date. She never wanted for company even though she loathed dating. Despite her strict stipulations and rules, they fell into bed with her, even though she hated that too. It never occurred to her to feel lonely or to even entertain the idea of wanting company other than Alfred or the occasional friends she once enjoyed like Harvey. That had changed a bit once the Wayne name was in tatters and her friends decided they wanted her dead or died themselves. Now she only had Alfred, Gordon, and John. That was more than enough except the latter two were beginning to look shaky.

She did not regret the trial of horrible dates or the personal sacrifices she made, but she did regret every single failure she made to others. Even so, she would do what she had to if it meant protecting Gotham and preventing more horrors in the city. She made her own choices knowing they would cost her something in turn. Batwoman regretted nothing. Well, nothing but failure. Sacrifices were worth it in the end even if she was left a hated woman by all. She signed up willingly anyway. Batwoman knew what needed to be done and she did it. Feelings could not get in the way or she could not do what it took.

"You do what must be done for the greater good. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices." Oh, she shouldn't have said that he might take that to mean sacrificing anyone and anything was fine. That could theoretically be used to justify the taking of a life or letting bystanders die. The greater good was subjective if the viewer saw things differently than the rest of the world like John might. Brooke had to be more careful with her words because he looked like he was taking them to heart. She should just keep silent!

John watched her while she had her inner panic attack and did not seem to notice her thunderous conflict, either way, he switched topics, "I did bring the thing, by the way. Don't you worry!" He reached back like he'd been keeping it tucked under his vest against all laws of gravity, "Perseus, I bring you the Gorgon's head."

John was hell on her resolve and a nightmare not to smile for. She had to frown hard just to keep from smirking. The absolute dork. He was entirely too much, really! She hated to call him adorable but he was at the very least endearing. She loved-liked him more than she should. It was hard not to.

"Sooo... is Batwoman happy?" She couldn't drop the frown yet because she still wanted to laugh, "You- you look pretty happy!"

Did she? Or was he projecting?

He grinned and put a hand over his heart, "Well, I'm happy. I did something for you..." He pointed vaguely at her, "Maybe you, uh... could do something for me?"

And here John's Arkum ways were showing again, "Like?"

"Teach me! Anything!" He looked so gleeful, "What about those, uh... boomerangs you have?" He adopted a childish, pleading stance and she was struggling with the corners of her mouth again, frowning more to hide it, "I promise to only use it for, uh, you know, hero things. Probably." And his little chuckle was enough to sway her from any worry the probably stirred.

"Fine." Oh, she was too soft! Brooke could feel herself mixing in with the Bat and it decidedly felt off and the Bat was not overly pleased so the harshness of her voice was more pronounced. Still, they both knew positive reinforcement went much father than anything else she might do with John. If she was going to keep him on her side she had to give him a reason to betray the others, including herself, apparently. He needed something to make him feel a part of her team, not that she had a team, strictly speaking.

She whipped out a Batarang with a flourish and got exactly the pleased response from him she expected. "Batarang. Long range weapon. Effective. Dangerous." The stilted speech was the easiest way to not give anything away to him. Had she stuck to that with Avesta she might not be currently under duress by the director.

John watched avidly, He was actually bouncing on his toes when he watched her throw it. In some ways, he was the purest, dark individual she had ever found with either face she wore. She could not entirely parse him out at times but she wished she could. Though Batwoman might have been able to with a little more efficiency had Brooke's personal feelings not gotten in the way of it. When she left the alley she felt less like herself and more mixed than she ever had been, even facing Harvey in the mask or Oz had not left her quite as disoriented. She could not separate herself as adequately with John as she could with others.

John's parting statement haunted her well after she fled the alleyway. His voice echoed in her brain endlessly. "With you to look up to, how could I go wrong?" Brooke and even Batwoman wished she was as sure of that as he seemed to be. His touch on her shoulders felt burned in well after she had driven away.

* * *

In the end, going home had done nothing to settle her particularly after she found an injured Miss Kyle in her sitting room. She did not regret turning the other woman over, or really, simply not warning her, though Selina did not seem to overly appreciate it. Regardless, she could not have betrayed Gordon that way. Jim and Alfred were as good as family, as close to parental figures as she actually had left, so while she could not give him Brooklyn Wayne, she had to at least keep silent. His anger with her and assurances that he would know if she tipped the other woman off had been enough to stay her hand. And as she told Selina, she hadn't really believed they would catch her or even come close. Batwoman had a difficult time getting the drop on her so she did not expect better from the GCPD though she supposed that was foolish in hindsight.

Regardless, Catwoman was a friend, but Gordon was Gordon and she could not afford the loss of his trust. She had few enough friends in Gotham in the flesh or in Kevlar and she simply could not risk having anyone else removed from the tally. Least of all the Commissioner. Selina was a criminal and she betrayed her first, to be fair.

Even so, she would admit that taking the woman to the Batcave and working together with her had been her own way of offering an apology. Though she did not feel the Bat was overly pleased with the idea of allowing someone that betrayed her once to come so close to something she worked so hard to hide, but Alred seemed to be quite cheered by it.

Apparently, her surrogate father wanted her to get out more and make friends. She supposed that must be the father in him, that parental drive to see a child happy. Perhaps he did not share DNA with her but he had always been as good as her father. Better, actually, considering who her father had been. Family to an orphan were those you chose to love and trust.

Selina called the cave isolating and she expected, by proxy, calling her isolated however intentionally. It was true, and that used to be all she wanted until she began to have everyone she did care about ripped from her again. It would be safer not to care about anyone, she knew that logically, but realistically she also knew she was bound to care about some people eventually. Better to try admitting it in the present than realize it once she failed them. Her family seemed to be expanding incrementally even if she was not entirely sure she enjoyed the process. Regardless, she had a new partner in Catwoman, however long that optimistically lasted. She was no idealist even if Selina did gush about turning over a new side of herself since they met. At least they were friends again and that did ease something inside Brooke she had not realized was twisted.

At least there were other people to share her horrors with, she supposed, like the one they faced now. She did not want to know what Riddler wanted with a virus like that but she wanted even less to see it fall into the hands of the Pact, or Waller either. Details and explanations for reasoning aside, it was clearly a job she needed to handle with great care and consideration.

Other than Catwoman and Alfred, she did not think she would trust anyone with a weaponized virus. That was one thing, among many, that Gotham simply did not need. Frankly, they already had their share of trouble. She trusted the Agency even less the more she learned, Waller could assure her all she liked. She was beginning to wonder if she worked with not one, but two deplorable criminal organizations.

Once Catwoman swayed her way to the elevator and she was left alone in her trusty vehicle, she took the opportunity to check in with John. She agonized over the wording of a text, restarting more than once but eventually she settled on: Are you okay? Has Harley noticed anything?

That didn't sound too stupid or needy, did it? It was just one friend checking on the wellbeing of another. Simple. Easy. Unobtrusive.

A minute or two later came the reply:

I'm just fine, buddy! Don't worry about me.

She noticed alright.

She's asking everyone questions. Making a list and checking it twice.

Haven't seen cat lady around have you?

Brooke ignored his question: Are you sure it's safe there for you right now? I could swing by and pick you up, just in case. Remember, you have access to the penthouse should you need to go anywhere.

The bing was almost instant:

I'm perfectly safe. Promise! ;)

Are you?

Bane left a few minutes ago and I think he was going looking for you.

Brooke frowned; Why would he be looking for me?

The bing was barely a beat later:

Not sure, but with him, it's usually best to assume the worst.

Brooke nodded in agreement even though he couldn't see it: I'll keep an eye out.

Though, a minute later she decided to venture a little farther out on a limb to see what she could get: By the way, where is IT?

The reply took a few seconds longer that time and she had a feeling she knew why: A safe place but we'll talk later. :D

Brooke was not sure what she expected him to say but that was not it exactly. Not that she expected a text message confession but it was cryptic enough she wondered if he intended to keep right on dodging the question. Was he planning to pretend that someone else stole it from him, maybe that the laptop met with an untimely accident? Would he tell her the truth? Part of her never entirely thought he would lie to her but she supposed she should have anticipated he would, particularly since he went behind everyone's backs to Batwoman. One could only expect so much honesty from a situation like that. Still, she had asked, feigning ignorance as well as interest in something she secretly already both possessed and gained access to.

She typed a quick: Keep me posted.

The phone winked back at her: Sure thing, pal! :))

There were a lot of unexpected things going on around her since the beginning of the case, all the way back to Riddler's first debut. Things would eventually sort themselves out, they always did. Facts were a thing to be relied on in a way nothing else could be. While she might not fully understand people she knew how to read evidence just fine. Facts did not lie or double-cross, they just presented. If she found enough facts she would eventually be able to draw forth a full answer to the entire puzzle. It was with that confident idea that she sped to her office.

Of course, surprises were in abundance lately.

Opening her own doors had not been that treacherous since Oz took over her company. It felt as if there really should have been a hidden camera placed somewhere for one of those many pranking shows that never seemed to die out. She had not been expecting to be ambushed in her own territory by two people she actually did care about. It was a sharp, highly unpleasant kick to the gun when Jim read her her rights. Granted, she should have seen it coming from the rooftop but she never expected Tiffany to play a key role as well. Then, people had a way of being surprising and she really should have found it much less than unsettling at this juncture.

When she looked up into the man's eyes, her moral compass, her inspiration, his eyes were hard and cold. Having Gordon look at her like that was a blow, she never wanted him to look at her the way he looked at a common, murdering criminal, never would have cared to see him look at her differently than he had looked at the little girl he wrapped in his coat. It did hurt and she hated that it did. She suddenly felt eight years old again, untethered and adrift. It sort of felt like finding out she was the daughter of a foul criminal all over again and the first time had been traumatic enough.

Did he really believe she could have done all the things he accused her of? It seemed he must and it hardly seemed fair somehow. She battled criminals at his side and it was a sour taste in her mouth to be the subject of his suspicion. He thought her one more part of the corruption and part of her wished she could tell him otherwise with the other assured her his suspicion was a good thing. If he believed she was dirty, others would as well and there was no way her secret would be outed. No one would believe Batwoman was the rich, pampered criminal of Gotham's finest. That thought was bittersweet.

Granted, once it was over, she gained a new Batcave member but she was more than slightly unsettled by the way Gordon looked at her on his way out. It almost made her regret telling him that Waller knew her identity when he asked the Bat what the Agency head had on her because if she was not intensely careful he would connect a few too many dots. Waller was being perhaps intentionally overt about Brooke being under protection. Gordon was bound to decide one of two things; either she turned states evidence and was spying for the Agency, or she was Batwoman being manhandled into a collar and leash with threats of exposure hanging over her head. Waller might as well have been setting her up, and for all she knew, that was exactly what was going on.

Technically vigilantism was a crime.

No matter what the woman claimed, she seemed keen to out her secret one way or another. If she were of less value in her undercover position she doubted she would be safe at all. Still, she was not foolish enough to expect this to be an honestly one-time thing. Waller was essentially a blackmailer and those tended not to go away after one payment, they were greedy. Waller would bleed her until there was nothing left of her and her double life was left in ruins. At present, she did not have a choice though aside from biding her time.

If they Pact found out how many visitors she had at the office, she knew she needed to have ready answers. Bribery was indeed a good option because even Gorden seemed to, or used to believe that was afoot. What he thought now was harder to guess. Without his job, there might not be much investigation he could do, though she would work particularly hard to be sure he was reinstated. Even a disgrace like herself still had some sway in a lot of places. It might not help his suspicions any though considering Batwoman had been consistently fighting for him as well, but she couldn't help that, she trusted him. Maybe she could pull those strings anonymously.

She was not a full discloser sort of person and she was already gaining too many people for her inner circle to still feel at ease. The more people involved in a secret the less it was secure. If he did find out, at this particular point in the game, she had no idea what he might do.

When she punched a fist-sized puncture in one of the walls she was glad Tiffany had already left the building. Maintenance would not be overly thrilled but she could equally blame in on the attempted arrest. They couldn't be too angry if they believed it was one of the police officers letting off steam rather than the CEO that should not be at all able to do that kind of damage to anything outside a bank account or liquor cabinet.

It was imperative she calm down before she did any further damage to her own property. There was only so much she could blame on other people without it seeming suspicious and suspicious was the last thing she needed. Maybe she should go on a fast, very public date tonight just to be sure? Would John let her dress him up and put a wig on to go out and not have Harley find out the new rule was already broken? He might agree to it. No, probably not, he was sensitive about his hair. There might be an actor in town. Better yet, someone from the courts! Kill two birds with one stone! Talk about Jim over dinner with some boring nuance she would hate, but have something productive come of it.

She pulled out her phone and sent John a text: How are things going?

This time, even though she waited, staring at the phone, there was no answer. Surely he was just busy and not in any danger. He never said he was in any sort of trouble, and said he was safe. In that crowd, who could really tell? They had mood swings worse than a pregnant woman. No, he was fine. John was crafty, he could talk his way out of trouble. Unless... someone saw him sneak out of Harley's office in addition to herself. Surely not!

Brooke glared at her phone while she rode the elevator down, trying to decide what message she could send that would not seem too desperate but would get his attention on the second try. Most people did not keep her waiting! She could not think of a time she had needed to send more than one text to anyone in order to gain their attention. Alfred did not count, he would keep her waiting hours if he was cooking.

This was foolishness! She should just ask if he was safe. Why should it matter if he thought anything one way or another if he was in danger, why was she worried about nonsense? Of course, when he turned out to be fine she would be further annoyed over the entire event and deeply resent her weakness for falling to pieces when he didn't instantly answer. There was no reason to worry other than the fact he was surrounded by killers. Oh, she had to get him out of there, into a nice, safe, calm penthouse. She could hire tenants if she had to! All doctors with spotless records she would decidedly comb through about seven times just to be absolutely sure there are no other Harley's to be found, nor any Lady Arkham's. Scratch that, she will fill the place with little old couples that only drive to church on Sunday and stay home quietly the rest of the time. Problem solved.

She stepped off the elevator and pressed send a little angrily, and shove the phone in her pocket, trying to convince herself he was ignoring her and not in danger. A ding made her jump and jerk the phone back up frantically, but there was no new message from John or anyone else. She glared at the screen, feeling mildly betrayed only to have strong arms jerk her backward very suddenly. This was a mugger or criminal with decidedly poor timing considering her mood. The shock of being dragged backward was enough to make her forget she was nothing but a rich girl and allow her inner Bat mostly off the chain.

She twisted in the hold just enough to plant her feet, set her grip on the arms around her, and vault the body right over the top of her. The momentum dragged her forward as well but she ducked out from under the falling body and pivoted easily to the side while her attacker crashed loudly into the floor. She spun to the side and jumped to her feet, ready for anything or anyone else that might be waiting.

The long, lanky body was a surprise considering she was sure he would be more visibly muscular considering the strength of the grip but- oh... no.

A long, low moan was punctuated by a breathless laugh, "Guess that'll teach me to sneak up on a lady, huh?"

Brooke fell instantly out of her combative stance, jaw dropping in horror as realization and recognition dawned, "John?!"

He groaned again in what might have been a response.

"What are you doing here? Jumping out and grabbing me!?" She hissed, more worried about the fact that she just used combative moves in front of John than she was angry.

"Is it too late to say I come in peace?" He asked with another chuckle.

"What are you doing?" Brooke ground out, trying for a calmer frame of mind and a slower heartbeat.

"Checking the structural integrity of your floors against falling objects?" He retorted, lolling his head back to look at her upside down.

She made a sweeping gesture to include the whole of the building, "I mean here, what are you doing in here? Grabbing me and hauling me around corners?"

"Oh, that." He grinned up at her from the floor, "That's a longer explanation."

Grabbing him by the collar, she jerked him to his feet and dragged him into an empty office. Brooklyn suddenly felt the desperate need for coffee. A very, very large mug or three, of coffee. Make them all a shot in the dark, much like the rest of her life seemed to be. Why not take her coffee the same? It only made sense!

* * *

Note: Sorry for the inclusion of some game dialog sections, I can't help myself on the portions I really love and I also feel they are occasionally essential to understanding the story in context. Everyone plays the game differently so for the important parts I feel like including what relationship changing conversations were is a bit important but other than that I can kind of do as I like with everything else. Sorry if you feel a particular dislike for this. I try to make it enjoyable rather than tedious. This chapter skimmed over events a lot but I really wanted to get to the main event, finally.


	6. Chapter 6

**Telltale Bats**

* * *

Brooke made a sweeping gesture to include the whole of the building, "I mean here, what are you doing in here? Grabbing me and hauling me around corners?"

"Oh, that." He grinned up at her from the floor, "That's a longer explanation."

Grabbing him by the collar, she jerked him to his feet and dragged him into an empty office. Brooklyn suddenly felt the desperate need for coffee. A very, very large mug or three, of coffee. Make them all a shot in the dark, much like the rest of her life seemed to be. Why not take her coffee the same? It only made sense!

She shut the door, pushing against it and letting the mechanism click to be sure it was honestly closed. There was no lock on this office door but she slid a chair in front of it to offer them a little protection. There was little to no appeal in an officer or worse still, Waller walking in on them. There was no love lost between the director and herself, particularly after she stripped Gordon of his job but she was even less trusting of what might happen if that woman was in the same room with John.

She already intended to throw the pact to the proverbial wolves and let the lot of them fight to the death, which would include John. The plan did not sit well with Brooke but factoring John into such a scenario appealed to her even less. Amanda Waller did not see things the way Brooke did. While she understood the principle of using "bad people to do good things" it did not make the results any less vial. Orchestrated, distant murder by another source was no less murder. While she did not have a plan to circumvent such an outcome, she intended to formulate one. The Agency might have her number, sure, but they did not own her.

"Tell me what's going on, John." She sounded a little stern even to her own ears but she could not be bothered to change it.

"A lot went down after you left. I came after you to make sure you didn't go down with it." He shrugged slightly, "Thought you might need backup."

"What went down exactly?" She crossed her arms over her chest, falling into a calming breathing exercise to keep herself in control.

He chuckled darkly, "What didn't!" In an undignified sprawl, John threw himself into a loveseat in the office before making a face like it hadn't been as comfortable as expected, "For a start, Harley is sure either you or Catwoman are the rat. She cleared everyone else. I didn't expect that, you know... thought it'd take her longer. Guess she was really motivated after the laptop vanished."

"She doesn't suspect you?" Brooke asked incredulously.

John smirked up at her, a hint of sadness behind it, folding his arms behind his head, "She didn't even ask, just wanted to know if I saw anyone else near the office. I said I didn't, of course, but that didn't seem to matter. She got answers."

Her spirit seemed to drop down to her toes. That was very bad! She didn't expect Harley to figure it out that fast either, or be that close to the truth. It did not leave her much room to work, not even to save the lives of a bunch of homicidal maniacs.

"So, since Bane took off looking for you, I didn't like the look of things. Bad odds, you know? I figured I'd head him off before he could cause trouble."

"How did you find me first if Bane left before you?"

He laughed again, "You've seen the guy. Does he seem stealthy to you? Besides, he's just lurking around outside, waiting for you. Or maybe he's waiting to see what happens next. There was a lot of excitement around here!"

There was a terrified mantra of urgent questions running through her mind. How much had he heard? Had he seen the near arrest? Had he heard anything Waller and Avesta were talking about in the hall? What did he know? What did he suspect? How much had Bane learned?

She had no desire to know the answer and yet she also did. It could be real trouble, not just with John, it could even be the end of her cover. She would spin her connections and money being the reason she wasn't locked up but there was no way to tell if that would fly when she was already suspect.

Gordon could not have created bigger problems for her if he'd actively been trying to blow her cover. It wasn't his fault, he didn't know, but it was an issue.

"Knock, knock, anyone there?" John hummed at her, making her eyes snap to him, "There you are! Thought I lost you to some other world for a second."

Brooke ignored his comment as well as the knowing smirk he shot at her, "Does Bane know Harley narrowed her list?"

John frowned, considering, "I'm not sure, actually. I'm not even sure what prompted him to book it over here unless maybe he already had a tail on you. One of his guys might have told him the GCPD was camping on your doorstep."

As if her spirits needed a reason to sink lower? That potential was not comforting. The list of concerns was ever growing. Being undercover as Brooke while being Batwoman was even more complicated than her usual web of lies. Everything was going to be blown wide open at this rate. She hasn't seen anyone flowing her but if they had already been watching Wayne tower that would explain it. Bane wasn't as stupid as he looked.

"Did he see you come in?" She could not help it if she worried.

He was flippant though, "I doubt it! I'm better at sneaking around than he is."

Brooke found herself sinking into a chair beside John, struggling to keep herself sane. Things were happening rather fast, as they tended to of late, but it didn't help her settle her mind. Gordon, Tiffany, Waller, Avesta, the day had been a rollercoaster of fiascos and this was one more sharp drop on the ride. Her eyes were burning, begging to be closed for a nice few hours of sleep she dearly wished she had time for. She did not feel like she could take much more of it. She settled her face into her hands and rubbed at her forehead to ease the ache.

It surprised her when John bounded up from his seat and hurried behind her. He gripped her shoulders tightly, his thumbs digging in on the edge of painful, "Don't worry!" He assured her, "I've got you!"

"John-" She tried not to wince when his thumbs dug into the rather tight muscles in her neck and shoulders.

John hissed in what she guessed was sympathy, probably, "Wow! You're wound tight! You're full of knots, buddy!"

"In light of what you've told me, I think I have reason to be tense." She defended.

"It's going to be fine, I've got it covered." His fingers were bony and sharp, digging in too hard but she refused to react, though she was not at all sure why she did not simply push him away.

"With the day I've had, I think I have ample reasons to worry. There are only so many patches you can make before a ship inevitably sinks from too many holes blasted through it."

John laughed and his touch gentled significantly into something she could endure, "I'm good at patching things! Remember who helped you get out of Arkham?"

"You also almost got us both stabbed." She retorted, but there was no bite to it.

He chuckled that low, low rumble, but his touch turned into something she could finally call pleasant and he worked the muscles instead of pulverizing them. "Only a little."

Brooke groaned, partly because of the message and partly because it was making it that much harder not to fall asleep right where she was, "How on earth do you have any energy? Why aren't you as dead as I feel? We barely slept."

This time John's laugh was giddy, "Want to take a nap, pal? It's your building, you can probably sleep anywhere you want to, though I don't recommend that couch.

"Antique style furniture is never all that comfortable, I should have warned you."

Brooke did close her eyes for a moment just to ease the burn. John's hands were warm and they actually had worked their way into feeling nice even if she had never been fond of letting anyone, not even Alfred, give her a message. For some reason, she had instantly decided not to rebuff John for his attention, probably because he needed all the encouragement he could get. When he was trying to be sweet it would have been unfair to reject him. It was an offer of friendship and a gesture of affection and she knew it. His affection was real so it actually meant something to her where other's wouldn't have.

It seemed a little ironic that John was so out of his depth with normal situations, with things people understood socially on instinct, but he was so much better at offering friendship than most normal, well-adjusted people. John seemed to be the type of person everyone wound up seeing as a friend, if not actively trusting him. She had seen him with people, people like Harley, people who should be beyond trust, yet they did seem to trust him like Selina seemed to feel safe enough around him not to respond to him the way she would have anyone else. John was inexplicably good despite his dangerous, hidden sharp edges. He was easy to care for and impossible to dislike in any real way. Perhaps it was because of his earnest desire to be friends with her that made her see it or his bold kindness. Maybe he could be so kind because he was not inhibited by socially accepted normalities. She was unsure. Maybe she was the only one that saw this.

"Hey, uh, buddy?" John whispered, only it was rather loud for a whisper like he was not very good at whispering.

Her eyes snapped open all the same only to find him in front of her, on his knees, both hands resting open palmed on her thighs. Her legs twitched in an instinctive effort to get away from the touch. She wasn't used to letting men touch her, not like that, or at all, if she could help it. John looked up at her from his kneeling position, his hands doing nothing but resting on her thighs innocently, like he was unaware they were inappropriately placed. His green eyes were guileless, full of genuine concern, open and honest. She did not feel defensive because he was not giving her a reason to, and even if he had, she was not sure she would have snapped at him or pushed him away like she would have any other man with a pulse.

"You really are tired, huh?" He ventured, almost looking more worried still, eyes overly focused on her, his brow crinkled in thought.

"I'm fine." She responded instantly.

His frown turned a touch condescending, or maybe just incredulous, "You fell asleep in about five seconds after I started rubbing your shoulders."

"I wasn't sleeping." She defended mildly even though she was starting to think she must have if she missed him moving around to the front of her, "I was deep in thought."

He rubbed his thumbs in circles like he was soothing her, "Sure, right. Guess I just couldn't tell the difference." He conceded even if he made it clear enough he did not believe her.

Brooke glanced at his hands, marveling at her lack of response to them being where they were. She should feel the usual indignation at the thought of a man being so free to put his hands on her, anyone thinking they could treat her like they knew her well enough to earn the privilege to invade her space without her express permission. Everyone was of the opinion her lifestyle was one that consisted of... a lot of casual touching and a lot of falling into bed with any man that offered. People were wrong, they were almost always wrong in regards to her.

She did take men to bed but not in the traditional sense and only because she had to in order to maintain her reputation. She worked hard to play the airheaded rich girl and she loathed every second. It was sickening and she despised letting anyone into her personal space. She hated being touched, hated being looked at, hated romance and everything that went with it. The men she took to a room were... made to understand that, she brought them to heel, and if they couldn't abide by her rules they did not stay. No one was allowed to touch her, not ever, for any reason.

Honestly, she usually required them to either keep their hands under their head or she cuffed them. Crude, but effective, and it meant she did not have to be touched. She let Oz and Harvey touch her more casually but that was only because she considered them rare friendships and she knew them for years. Anyone else was highly discouraged from even casual hugs if there was any way to glare her way out of it. Most men told her she had control issues in the bedroom but they were wrong on that too, she had control issues about everything. People were almost always wrong.

People always said there was an exception to every rule. She never quite believed it because rules stayed the same, it was the application that chanced. How a rule was enforced could change but the rule itself never could. Rules had addendums, but rules were law.

Now, looking at John, she realized the saying was true and she had found her exception.

The rules she applied to every single person, everyone she ever met, rules she lived and worked by, they were useless in the face of that man. She had always let him get away with anything, even when they first met. She might have been uncomfortable with his lack of boundaries at first but it never set off the reactions it normally would have. She never really needed the distance with him and she never enforced it.

She caught herself thinking things like; "Never-" this or that, "with anyone for any reason. Except for John." It was always a case of "except John" for all her religiously followed rules. She never thought such a thing was possible.

Had any other man been so bold she would either have broken every bone in his body or ruined his career in a bout of rage. Except for John. She didn't even feel defensive with him, had no instant urge to pull away. She trusted him. In a fight, she would have trusted him to stand at her back. She only trusted Jim with her back before, at least in battle. She only trusted Alfred such closeness in other situations. But now she trusted John, a man she had not known very long at all. Sometimes you did find an exception to a rule.

Was this what being in love was like? She had never been in love so she had never understood. Nearly every man she ever dated hoped to be _the one_ the rich Wayne would fall for and change her ways for, the one to stop her roving and gain her commitment; they wanted her fortune, not her love, but they hoped to be the one to catch her all the same. She never felt a single thing for any of them, not even a tiny spark.

But this? Was this what it felt like for other people?

"Are you okay, Brookie? You... don't look so hot. You look a little pale and on anyone but me that's usually a bad sign." He looked so worried.

Her shoulders dropped when a few more things fell mentally into place but she forced out a chuckle, "I'm fine, thanks."

Even if she had fallen in love, well, she picked the worst possible man to fall for. This man was already in love with a rather deadly opposite to herself and everything she stood for. If she had fallen in love with him she was doomed to regret it, she was sure. Their situation with the Pact and now Sanctus hanging in the balance was sure to end very badly. Even with a Wayne pulling strings, even with a high dollar attorney, John might be sent back to Arkham for all this. If any of them lived through it, of course.

"Like I said, I'm just thinking." She forced herself to smile, "There is a lot to think about. Like Harley, in particular."

"Oh, no worries, Brookie! I've got you covered!" He waved his phone in her direction, "I have photographic evidence that you tried to stop Catsy, fought her! We'll say you wanted to give her a chance to come clean, wanted to show her mercy, so we told her to get out of town and never come back. We'll say we were going to give her twenty-four hours to get away before we told on her. They'll believe it, they know you're a bleeding heart. I can spin it to Harley and she'll believe me. We'll say we realized our mistake once she grabbed the laptop, which can also be the reason I came to find you, to tell you what happened."

Brooke could only manage to stare at him in total silence.

"So long as we keep it simple and keep our story straight it will go fine. Harley'll be mad, obviously, but it's better than her finding out... uh, the truth."

"You want to blame it on Catwoman? Make Harley think she's the mole?" She shook her head and instinctively lowered her voice as if imparting a secret, "John, we stole the laptop!"

"Well, yeahhhhhh. But let's face it, she would have stolen it if we hadn't gotten to it first! And just because I stole it doesn't make me the mole!" John was gesticulating, seeming to struggle for words before he jumped to his feet and began to pace, "You asked me to help you get it! So maybe you're the mole, and maybe you're not... All I know is... I-I can't lose you."

Brooke's mouth went dry and she felt herself deflate. She pulled out her phone, scrolled until she found Selina, and began to type out a warning message. She would have to tell her the game was up and they had been found out. She might leave out the fact that she planned to blame the whole thing on the woman but what else could she really do? Anything else would blow her cover and they could not very well afford that. The mission was important and even if she had no intention of letting innocent people die, she did understand that she might have to let the Pact be the proverbial spearhead Waller talked about. So long as she was there to control them she supposed she could keep the damage minimal. She did not like anything that had happened today and things looked like they would be getting progressively worse.

"What are you doing?" John asked warily.

"I'm going to send Catwoman a message and tell her to disappear for a while."

John made a little sound of distress, "I wouldn't send that if I were you!"

Brooke's eyes snapped up, "And why not?"

He twiddled his fingers nervously, "She... might be indisposed at the moment. Harley might have already, uh, detained her... I mean, she only had two suspects. It makes sense to isolate them, right? But Harley was going to give you the benefit of the doubt, talk to you first, see what your story was. She likes you! She trusts you, mostly!"

Brooke found her feet, "Why didn't you tell me that to start with?!" Funny how anger could chase away that tiredness lingering in her mind. "What were you thinking?"

John puffed up a bit defensively, "I'm thinking about you! Catwoman has to take the fall! Think about it, Brooke! Harley's gonna kill that Tiffany girl if it's you. And who knows if she'll stop there..." John frowned, running a hand through his hair in exasperation, "I mean, I never wanted it to come to this. But we both know what has to be done."

"Absolutely not! There is no scenario where we are letting that happen." She hissed through gritted teeth.

"I knew that'd be your kneejerk reaction, but...this is the only way out. The only way that keeps you alive... And don't think I don't feel just awful about this. Since, you know, I stole it. Can't help but feel a little bit responsible. I know you care about her. But. Yeah."

"John!" Brooke took a step forward, glowering.

His hands shot up to placate, "It's going to work out, you'll see! We just have to-"

"No, John! We don't just pin our crimes on someone else and let them die for it! There is never any situation where letting someone die is the best possible outcome! We have other options!"

He looked annoyed and crossed his arms over his chest, "Oh yeah? Fine, what do you suggest we do then? Confess?"

"No, obviously not. We pin it on someone they can't go after as easily." She hadn't been sure what she intended to do until that moment but once she said it, she knew how she intended to play her cards.

John cocked his head, questioning, sounding almost sly and hopeful suddenly, "You have a plan?"

Brooke smirked, "Something like that. I've got an idea, at least." She'd had a few backup plans stashed away for several eventualities because she was never one to be left without recourse. "I've had a few strategies lined up for a while, in case exigent circumstances arose. In business, you learn to always leave yourself more than one backdoor just in case you have reason to need it."

"A backdoor huh?" He chuckled, "And what is hidden behind that door?"

"Hopefully a way we can all come out of this with our heads and still in Harley's good graces."

"Must be _some_ plan then... but are you sure enough about it to risk your life?" He did not look entirely sold.

"This is important to me, John. I know we can do it if you'll help me." She reached out and took his hand, trying to get through to him, "Will you help me again?"

John lit up like a lightbulb, "Will I? Team up? Corporate espionage! Sure, I'm in." His smile was so fond even if a bit resigned toward the end, "I just can't say no to you, Brookie." Green eyes narrowed marginally, "As long as it doesn't sound like a doomed plan."

* * *

In the end, they did take her car. It was faster and it could double as a getaway car, a very good one. She debated the validity of giving Bane the slip using another car, even John's stolen one, but decided nothing would change regardless of his involvement. If they beat him back using the secret streets one learned while prowling Gotham every night, it would probably be the same as leaving him at Wayne Tower. In this case, Harley was the one she was worried about, and Catwoman, of course, but Harley was the threat. Enough time had been spent chasing her own tail, she did not need to spend more on evading Bane, plus it was part of the plan now.

The engine purred as if to let her know it was there to support her should she so desire. In its alternate form, it could do just that too. That would be a last resort though, even if all she used the Batmobile for was to swoop in and pick up Selina. The remote was ready but it would be a dangerous move. It would reveal Batwoman in a potentially more real way and if they noticed the lack of driver they might even decide Selina was Batwoman. That could be disproved easily but she did not want to see any of that leading back to her door. Best to avoid using the black side of the car if possible. Still, it could be utilized if there was no choice.

Catwoman was a friend and she could not very well let her die. Not that she supposed the other woman would do much to save her if things had been reversed but that might be a pessimistic view, even if it was one born from experience. Alfred did not care to leave Catwoman to this particular crowd either so that sealed things quite thoroughly seeing as how she tried never to go against the man. Alfred liked Selina and Selina seemed to like him, even worry about him. It was true, the poor man needed a vacation without any sort of stress. Once this was over she would send him on one, first class to anywhere he wanted to go, he earned it.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" John looked over at her with a pleading expression, seeming less sure the closer they came to Old Five Point.

"I'm sure, John. With the two of us working together we can absolutely do this." Of course, she also had a third party in on things. She slipped into the bathroom before they left and worked out a few extra addendums to the plan with Alfred just for safety sake. As much as she believed John would come through for her, she never was one to leave anything up to chance. Having Alfred backing her up was worth as much as an army. Waller would be of absolutely no help. Tiffany was not really ready to be a player yet, not the same day she learned the secret, so it was Alfred and John. She'd faced worse odds.

Alfred was quite the lifesaver and he was also a wealth of information, enough so that she could make her stories sound believable. What would she do without that man?

Together, they came up with even more lies to sound believable, and a few more to hand feed John to keep him from getting suspicious. It was true, what John told Batwoman, it really did not feel too good when she had to lie to him. It had become such a habit she hardly thought about it even if she disliked doing it but once John mentioned it, the feeling of distaste heightened. She noticed her lied now more than ever. Honestly, she felt nothing when she lied to people like Harley, but John? Gordon? The lies were already starting to come back to bite her with the police. She had a sick rumbling in her gut that told her they might go south with John too.

John fingered the two little devices in the cup holder, "You really think these are going to be enough to make her believe us?"

"It should be. It would be in a court of law. Reasonable doubt.

John snorted, "In case you didn't notice, Harley isn't... as reasonable as a court of law. Or maybe she's more reasonable, who knows."

"Harley can't get too mad at us once we give her what she's been after this whole time. I found the Blacksite, even without the laptop, it wasn't exactly well hidden." She was lying but that didn't matter.

John's brows arched nearly into his hairline, "Do tell!"

Brooke typed the keywords into her phone and held it out, "Notice what that flower is?"

He grinned wickedly, "Looks like a lotus to me." He eyed her dubiously, "but are you sure that's the right place?"

"Positive. I had my people do a little digging into their more secret business dealings. They are a legitimate business on the surface but there is more to them beyond that."

John huffed, grinning at her, "Impressive, even for you! But you're right, it's probably enough to keep her mind occupied and maybe even put her in a good mood."

"That's what I was hoping." Granted she had not been able to scout the location the way she would have liked but things had escalated since she had been about to check on it. She could always suggest Harley let her scout it after she told her about it.

"Alright, Brooke, if you think this will work... if it makes you happy, you know I'm all in! You are happy, right?"

For some reason, she got the distinct feeling he had asked her that before, but then she remembered it hadn't been her he asked, "Couldn't be happier!"

She could not shake her worry, not really. She was afraid, for some reason, that things were just about to catch up with her. Everyone eventually had to pay the price for their actions and everything happening on this case seemed destined to be what ultimately made it all crash down. Some part of her feared John might be her price. Everyone else that was close to her, that defended her, either died or were damaged in some way.

With a deep breath, she gripped the wheel tighter, "Listen, though, just in case, I want you to go to the penthouse if anything goes wrong. Like, if we get separated or trouble pops up, go there. You'll be safe, no one would ever think to look for you there."

John traced the outline of the window with his index finger, "Sure, I get it."

"I mean it! If anything happens, not just with this, but later too! If anything happens, if you feel unsafe at any time, I want you to get out and go lay low there. You don't even need to ask me, the place is an open door to you. You can go there for any reason. Bane being in a bad mood, anything that might put you at risk."

"Oh, Brooke," His voice sounded raspy for a moment and he blinked a few times as if something was clouding his eyes, "You're... I'll do that, sure. But, hey, don't worry! Nothing bad is going to happen! Don't worry s much!"

* * *

The two of them strolled into the Pact's main gathering place. Most of the key players were gathered loosely around the vicinity. Catwoman was already seated on a crate, bound and gagged with armed guards surrounding her. Thank goodness for small favors! It would have been a great deal harder to find the woman and let her out if she had been hidden away. Brooke nudged John's arm with her shoulder and he nudged back.

They could do this, she reminded herself. John was one of the best people she had ever worked with, he had amazing potential that everyone underestimated. They worked well as a pair because people underestimated her too, at least when she did not have the mask on. With her wit and John's fast tongue together with his history with these people, they should make it. They really should. If they couldn't, three of them should be able to escape if not hold their own against the rest. Of course, that was if John would side with her in a fight, which she hoped he would.

Selina was wide-eyed and focused on them but Brooke did not even glance at her, couldn't afford to seem overly worried. She pretended not to really notice, not looking more than any other curious person entering would. John trailed behind her and she hoped to highest heaven that he managed to slip the woman at least one of the things they planned to get to her. She did not dare look back to check. She marched her way up the steps and eased in next to Freeze.

"Where is Harley? I need to speak with her." Brooke insisted in a stage whisper.

Freeze looked highly unimpressed.

"It's urgent!" She persisted.

"She's upstairs." He told her flatly.

Brooke turned her attention to the man cleaning his weapon and used her rich, demanding voice, "Go get Harley!"

For the second time, a very unimpressed look was leveled on her but Freeze came to her aid, surprisingly, "Go get her." He muttered in his mechanical tone.

Those orders were obeyed and the masked man scurried away. Freeze did not bother to ask her any questions and he did not even bother to look at her. There was no way to tell what he was doing but she did not actually care either unless she found out later that it directly was linked to something she should know in the future. Well, regardless, the man was not sharing and the equations he was jotting down were over her head, at least without context so she stood in equal silence. It was a good time to calm her nerves, as impossible as that was.

As much as she wanted to think her plan would work she could not be absolutely sure considering the multiple, volatile variables. She looked at John at that moment and was oddly eased by his wide, confident grin. He believed in her and was sure she would not lead him astray. His voice echoed in her head for a moment; "With you to look up to, how could I go wrong?"

So many ways, unfortunately. With a deep breath, she also took a glance at Catwoman only to find her glaring, seeming confused, but also less alarmed than she had when Brooke walked in with John. John must have been able to get her what they planned. She had already known all eyes would be on her, she knew she had no chance of slipping Selina anything. No one watched John though. Having John was like hiding an Ace up her sleeve.

The man called down a message from the wooden loft. Harley would be down in a minute and things would either fall to pieces or drastically improve. If everything, absolutely everything went wrong, she would grab John and Selina and march them both to the cave to hide them for the rest of time. John could surely keep a secret if he never saw the light of day again, right? Because he would love that, of course, being stuck in a cave or even the mansion for the rest of his life. There was still that penthouse plan she was saving.

"What was so vitally urgent anyway?" Freeze spoke up, not even looking at her.

Brooke shrugged and wrapped her confident, rich and untouchable persona around her like a shroud, "Only that I know how the Feds have been tracking us."

"What?" That got him to look at her.

The front doors banged open loudly as a muscle-bound, masked volatile variable stormed in. He bellowed Harley's name like a bull declaring war on a matador. His eyes fell on her and his rhythm halted mid-step, throwing him off and making him seem to stumble. It did not last and he picked up speed, eyes zeroed in on her. His huge shoulders rolled along as he prowled like an evil dinosaur.

His heavy accent rolled over the top of her just like his hot breath, "Look what the cat dragged in!"

Brooke held back a plethora of insulting replies and simply stared the large man down.

John bounded over like a protective puppy torn between baring its teeth and wagging its tail, "Brookie's got some news!" He seemed to settle on, grinning in that way that was just a touch dangerous.

For some reason, she suddenly remembered that razor John gave her. It was in her pocket, she never went anywhere without it these days. He had been right, it was comforting to have, like having a piece of him with her at all times.

"What'dya want, Bane?" Harley growled down with impressive volume, boots stomping with irritated purpose. It struck Brooke at that moment that she had never seen the other woman without those gray diamonds over her eyes before. She only had half her face finished, one diamond hiding under the red half of her hair.

"I was going to tell you I'd found this one, " he jabbed a thumb at Brooke, "in a suspicious set of circumstances only for her to give me the slip." His voice dropped lower, "yet here I find her, brazen as you please!"

"Brazen!" Brooke snarled, "What is that supposed to mean? And what suspicious circumstance? What were you doing flowing me anyway? You spying on me now?"

"Spying? No," he soothed with false kindness, "I've only been keeping an eye on you. "

Brooke found John's voice joining hers in almost the exact same pitch, like they synchronized, "That's the same thing."

Bane continued as if he heard neither of them, "I heard the GCPD paid you a visit at your office, so I swung by to see if you might be in need of some aid."

Brooke rolled her shoulders and scoffed, "Thank you for the concern but my bank and I had it covered."

Several of the group, Harley included, chuckled at the joke. Bane smiled but it was not overly friendly.

"She's great! I told you she was good!" John gushed as if any of them were really listening to him.

She decided it would be best to keep talking before Bane could, "But after that, things did get cleared up. I found the mole thanks to the GCPD's ever helpful interference in my life. Whoever said officers never showed up when you need them?"

A few laughed but the joke was mostly left with science until Harley snapped, "What did you find?"

"Catwoman is probably the mole, but so were all the others you already killed." Brooke held her voice steady, waiting a few seconds before she delivered the blow.

Harley nodded, setting her jaw but not looking shocked, "I'm disappointed. So much for the solidarity of sisterhood. And here I was, startin' to be a cat person." Harley barred her teeth, ready to condemn or ask another question. "How did you-"

"Shhh, she's getting to that," John assured, though Harley almost looked alarmed at having been shushed.

Brooke held up a finger, "But technically, Bane is the mole, I'm the mole... and so are you, Harley."

There was an inaudible gasp before Harley snapped, " _Excuse me?_ "

"Just what is that supposed to mean?" The big man bellowed.

Brooke dug into her pocket and held her closed fist out in front of her, "After that visit I got, I did a little investigating in my office, then my car. Found something I'm willing to bet we all have at least one of, hiding in something of ours." She opened her fist and dropped the tiny technology into John's waiting palm. "They've been listening... and you know what that means?" She allowed herself a growl, "It means you killed all your men for nothing! Whatever happened, happens because they were listening."

There was a decided moment of silence before Freeze leaned over John's shoulder and examined the technology, "These are very good, well made, expertly crafted."

"Oh!" John dug in his own pocket, beaming when he produced the tracker she placed on him at the funeral, crushed and broken now, but clearly recognizable, "After she went around like a _mad woman_ on a mission, tossing furniture around and everything, I took a look at my car too! Found this under my seat!" He scrunched up his face, "Can you believe that! Can't trust anything these days! It's an invasion of privacy! Just no respect for personal property, even if I did borrow that car."

She hadn't told him to do that and she was also more than shocked he kept that little thing. He was adlibbing and from the look of Harley and her total indignation, it was working. John knew what buttons to push with Harley at the very least.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Harley snarled.

"That proves nothing." Bane muttered darkly, "We still have a traitor."

Brooke took a step forward into the big man's personal space, eyes narrowed to slits, "Doesn't it? Because I think it explains a lot! You don't want to admit it because then you'd have to take responsibility for killing loyal men for no reason!"

"Watch yourself." Bane warned, "I would hate to have to crush your pretty skull."

"Don't threaten her!" John hissed dangerously through gritted teeth.

"Cool it!" Harley barked, shoving her hand into Bane's shoulder, successfully moving him, surprisingly.

"That is your specialty, right, Bane?" Brooke sneered, "Kill fist, worry about it later?"

Harley rounded on her, "I said, cool it!"

"Fine." Brooke eased her shoulders down and pretended to deflate. " But there's more."

Harley tensed, "More good news? I don't know how much more I can take."

Brooke glanced at John pointedly. His green eyes lost all anger and sparked instead, happy to have gotten to this stage of the plan already. He might be a talented spy but he decidedly would prefer to be done with it, she was sure. He was lying to the love of his life, after all. Brooke swallowed convulsively for a second, feeling imaginary bile rising.

"This, you'll like," John assured her excitedly.

Harley didn't alter her expression.

He lowered his voice to a volume only Harley could hear when he whispered in her ear.

Harley's eyes grew comically wide, "You got it?" Then she grinned wide and excited, "Puddin'!"

"Hey! Where did she go?!" One of the men shouted.

All eyes turned to Catwoman's former seat that was now decidedly vacated. Brooke knew the woman could get away if offered a good enough distraction. Arguments were always good for that. They could not strictly blame her either considering she was not the only one yelling. Yes, they might suspect she diverted their attention on purpose to give the other woman a chance but she could claim innocence. Suspicion would probably be slightly diverted once they noticed Catwoman "stole" Brooke's car, not that anyone could steal it, and she could technically call it right back to her, they did not need to know that.

The group began to shout quite a bit louder and Bane took off at a lumbering gallop but Selina was never one to be idle when given the chance to run and the key to a car to escape in. It was doubtful she had gotten far but she should be able to escape.

Clearly, Alfred did not share her confidence because the lights and all the rest of the technology went dark in accompaniment with the E.M.P. pulse.

The subsequent rise in volume was nearly deafening. Somehow, inexplicably, John found her hand in the darkness and held tight to it like he was connecting a lifeline, probably for both of them. No doubt he was right. The night was far from over.

* * *

After a few more shouting matches, a few frantic episodes, and more yelling, The Pact was mobilizing. The trucks were being loaded up with everything because they were clearly not secure at their location. Brooke had been adamant on that point, ranting that they were all compromised and it would likely be any time when they were swarmed with agents after their heads. She pretended to be a bit panicked considering she could not afford to be caught in this kind of situation, money only covered up so much, and they had all been too careless. The self-preservation act seemed to go a long way to selling them on her innocence even though they threatened her profusely if she even considered backing out now. She assured them she was not planning to cut and run but Harley was only truly eased when she told her the location of the Blacksite and fabricated evidence Alfred whipped up.

"All my fancy computers are good for something, at least." Brooke smirked wickedly at Harley, "Once I had a few key facts, it wasn't hard. Even Bane could have puzzled it out. I just need to scout it and we should be golden."

"We don't have time to scout it." Harley groused, "We'll just have to hope for the best." Then she smiled, sans one diamond around her eye, "Good work though! I didn't think you had it in you but you came through after all. You must have more of your father in you than I thought."

Brooke grinned to hide her flinch, "You think I'd be able to hang onto my company all this time if I wasn't?"

Harley smirked, seeming pleased, but Brooke just felt sick. She hated being reminded of her father, reminded that she had the blood of a monster in her. It was hard to reconcile the man she had known with the one everyone else seemed to know. It did make her wonder just how much contact Harley had with her father though. Was every criminal in the city somehow tied back to her family? Just how many people had her father set on a dark path? How many people got cold and dark like Harley with the influence of the Wayne taint?

Seeing as she was his daughter she doubted she wanted to trace back all the evil Thomas Wayne begat. No doubt it would be the most horrifying thing she had seen to date, even counting her time undercover. It was easy not to dwell when there was so much chaos around her. They made rather fast work of the place and soon there would be nothing left in Old Five Points beside the colorful lights and painted smiles. She hoped she had not made an even greater mistake in tipping the Agency's hand for them, letting these people know they were being watched. It could backfire spectacularly but she had seen no other way, not really.

She needed them in a frenzy because they would slip up. It was more than just letting Catwoman escape, Brooke needed these people off their game. She needed them to be centralized and vulnerable with no place to run. They would be easier to pick off if they had no plan nor place to regroup as a unite. Dissembling them could backfire but it could also mean they fell. They might be a stack of wild cards but they were too organized as it stood. In the eventuality when her secret was revealed, the more scattered they were the less likely they would be to figure her out in total. If they were on the run she had a chance.

Granted, they could run more easily, perhaps escape, but now the pieces of what they all wanted were not centralized. They could not so easily function if they could not find all the moving parts. If Waller could capture enough moving parts it would sink the entire ship. These people needed each other and they needed the thing they had to be centralized for their plans. The tower would topple far more easily without cohesion.

The crew searched the vehicles and John "found" another tracker. He somehow managed to make sure a few others found a couple more. John's slight of hand was rather impressive, she had to say. She had not dared even try such a move considering she knew the kind of scrutiny she was under. In the past, she planted a few, but not today. John managed brilliantly without her. He was a true master. Though she hoped they did not find any of her trackers. Those she would need later on.

Later, once the chaos dulled down to a dim flame, John whispered, "We make a great team, huh?"

All John had was one duffle bag to his name and it wasn't even very full. It made her heart clench.

Brooke smiled at him, "Yeah, we really do."

He squeezed her hand, lingering, leaning closer, almost like a man would if he intended to kiss her. "Everything is going to go off without a hitch from now on! You'll see!"

She squeezed his hand, unable to communicate with words, unable to think of anything to say.

"You okay?" He tilted his head, staring at her with that usual look of concern.

She nodded but couldn't have answered if she wanted to. The feeling of foreboding was choking her. A sense of loss creeping in even though things had gone well. Nothing went well for long, they got worse when they got better. Even if things went perfectly she was about to lose John one way or another. He would either be arrested or killed unless he was able to escape and took her very pointed advice to hide where no one else could find him.

"You sure? You're looking pale again," He questioned.

"You're my lifesaver, John." She told him very quietly.

John smiled at her before he lifted her hand and twined their pinkies, "Told you I'd always be your friend. You can't get rid of me that easy, I'm gonna stick it out until the end."

There was a sting in her eyes that she refused to acknowledge. Her lips were a bit chapped but she leaned up and planted them on his cheek for a moment before pulling away from all contact with him. His eyes were wide and round, his jaw ever so slightly slack. "For luck." She offered in explanation before she moved away and toward the nearly loaded van. It was only then that she felt eyes on her. When she looked for the source, she discovered Bane leaning against a far wall, staring like a hawk. He was not nearly close enough to have been able to hear anything, she had been watching for the proximity of anyone before she spoke to John, but she felt uncomfortable under such forceful scrutiny. For lack of anything else to do she offered him a nod, one he almost grudgingly returned.

As she made her way toward Harley's location, she noticed Bane strolling over to John and hoped she had not inadvertently put John at odds with the big man.

* * *

Note: I guess this is kind of a fix it with Selina. I mean, honestly, I understand why there are only ever two major, major choices in the games. I get what a headache a third option would be to work into the game but it never set with me that we were not even given the chance to TRY to talk our way out of that. I mean, this is Batman, the guy who has at least three contingency plans to stop every member of the Justice League! Why would he not have a backup plan let alone backup plans for backup plans? I didn't go into super detail, but in my mind, Brooke has a ton of little traps set around Five Points, a couple she just gave to Selina. But I don't see Batman without his strategies, for example, I'm pretty sure he would have trackers on all their cars, even John's, even if John lied and didn't really check. We should have had other options, like maybe just one more if we'd played the game just so up to that point. The two options for everything tends to bug me even if I get it. (But this is Batman, guys! King of strategy!)

Anyway, it only gets more AU from here, however, I do have two alternate endings in the works for both cannon endings in the game that I will post as, well, alternate endings. Don't expect me to follow the games exactly because, well, I'm not going to. You may hate what I have planned, I have no idea, but when it comes time for those alternates I will title them Villain or Vigilante so you know what they are.

Also, was anyone else destroyed by this last episode? Because I was! Like, after I played both versions (my canon was the Vigilante but I also played Villain next) I literally just went to bed because I could not handle life for a while. AND ON TOP OF JOHN THEY DARED WITH ALFRED! Like John wasn't life ruining enough! I was intensely shocked that I was right about Tiffany though! I expected to be wrong even though I had all these theories! But my baby John! I mean, I expected them not to agree, I even expected them to have a falling out because I was sure John was basically our new Jason without the dying first part to his change in anti-hero status, but what I got was a lot different than what I'd been prepared for. Thank goodness for the cutscene at the end where Bruce visits John (though, though, can I just say WHERE ARE OUR VISITS TO HARVEY?! Just saying, they are both in Arkham, where is our cutscene in past episodes for Harvey?) Yet I'm so ready for another season where my suffering will be amplified, I hope they make more! Take my money! Give John an at least mildly happy ending somewhere! I don't even care, I want more of this game!


	7. Chapter 7

**TellTale Bats**

Who Are You? -Svrcina

Love Is Madness- Thirty seconds to Mars feat. Hasley

* * *

One of her trackers had been found but the rest were still functioning, by some unheard of streak of luck, she would no doubt pay for in some way later. Lady Luck was no friend to Brooklyn Wayne and anything good that happened was frequently followed by disaster. Twice, things had gone off perfectly so she was waiting for the inevitable moment when it all crumbled under her feet to let her plummets a few thousand stories.

Alfred was watching and cataloging every turn and stop light every single vehicle made with absolute dedication, she knew he was. The detailed locations of their every move would be given to the GCPD the moment the mission at the spa concluded, she would not be handing them to Waller; even if Gordon was gone she doubted he would be far removed from the situation so long as the officers loyal to him were in on the case. It made her feel slightly more at ease even as she found herself sitting in one of those vehicles. The sick tingle at the back of her throat refused to go away but there was nothing for it but to ignore it. Waiting for a bomb to go off was not her idea of a pleasant way to spend her time, but wait she must.

With Catwoman gone she had no definite help on the inside even if she thought John would be mostly on her side. He had been more than helpful but she could not say with certainty what would happen if he faced the choice to defend her or follow Harley. That nagging thought was probably contributing to the ill feeling in her gut. She did not fault him for the potential, she did understand his loyalty. The heart was a terrible thing, she was learning. It picked what it desired without logic or reason and it was an inexplicably strong driving force.

Brooke licked her dry lips, suddenly wishing she had something to put on them, partly just to give her something to do.

It felt like there was too much sound, inhibiting her ability to focus on any one aspect of it, bombarded by so much stimulus that rendered it all useless. She could feel it, whatever it was she was meant to hold onto, slipping from her grasp. The situation was about to spin out of her control very fast indeed when a host of unpredictable variables clashed with her known set of volatile variables. She was not at all sure she could contain the chemical reaction that combination was bound to have. The weight of that understanding, of knowing she was holding not one, but multiple bombs in her hands and the surety that she was more than likely not going to be able to defuse all of them... it terrified her.

She knew one thing with absolute certainty, she could not let them get away with the virus. Something that dangerous could not be allowed onto her streets. If she did nothing else, or if it was literally the last thing she did, she had to keep the virus from hurting the city. A very odd and strange part of her wondered what Waller would tell people if she died. Would she die a criminal to the world or would she be hailed as a spy in the Pact? Well, she knew what was most likely considering Waller was not overly charitable. Gordon would probably be rather smug.

She closed her eyes to that thought, to the thought of his expression. What would they spin as the story of Batwoman's death? Would that actually be how her identity was revealed? And wouldn't that be the hight of irony? After all, she agreed to this mission to keep her identity secret. Ah, irony and her cruel sting! It was nearly enough to make Brooke laugh.

"Want to some gum?" John held a container under her nose and she caught an instant whiff of peppermint.

"Oh," she pulled her head up enough to get her face out of the direct proximity of the package, "sure, thanks."

"It helps," he told her when he shook a piece into her waiting palm, "calms the nerves a little."

"I could definitely use that." She admitted before she caught herself.

John looped an arm around her, "Hey, no worries, buddy! It's all going to be fine! Stick with me and we'll get there!" He tightened his hold on her, "It's worked so far so I'd say it's a sign! As long as we're together, everything will go smoothe! We're a great team!"

Brooke, inexplicably, felt the muscles in her shoulders simply drop their coil, like his confidence untied a knot in her she had not realized needed work, "We are a great team." She found herself leaning into their contact.

After a quiet moment, for reasons unbeknownst to her, she made another confession, quiet and timid; "I think I'm afraid again."

John's arm around her tightened, "Don't be."

She was not afraid of death, not even at the hands of these kinds of people. It was the fallout she feared. It was how they all came out the other side of the mission she worried about. Those people she was with were not her friends but it did not change the fact that part of her did want to protect them as well. Being undercover made her see them as people rather than monsters; people she had to stop, but still people. She dreaded what might happen to them once she stopped them, though not nearly as much as she dreaded what could happen if she failed to stop them. Their individual reasons were unknown but she could hardly expect criminals to be after anything altruistic in regards to deadly biological weapons.

This was a war on the end, whether she wanted it to be or not.

Things could turn catastrophic rather swiftly. It was Gotham she feared for most. But then there was the man beside her. Her fear for his fate was almost equal to that of her fear for an entire city. Who could say what that meant?

"I wish I could turn it off." She was never this honest with anyone, never admitting to a weakness without a fight.

"I'll be right beside you! We all will!" How could he know that was part of the issue? He was trying, at least, to comfort her, "What are you worried about anyway? You're _the_ Brooklyn Wayne! You couldn't mess up if you tried!" John believed in her too intensely, almost with fanaticism.

Regardless, she found herself chuckling without any bitterness, "Tell that to my long list of mistakes and failures."

"You don't have any," John whispered fondly, nudging her temple with the tip of his nose.

"You have no idea how much I wish reality lined up with your perception of me... but then, you know I've got flaws, you've seen me in my less than flattering moments. You shouldn't flatter me like that or I might start to believe you."

"You were beautiful, even in Arkham." He whispered it right in her ear and made her shiver.

"I doubt that, but thank you." She offered a reluctant, perhaps even shy smile, something John seemed to like getting from her.

Green eyes brightened just that much farther, but he seemed somehow more intent, "You just don't see what other people see. You're... intense, driven, dangerous even, but... there's this goodness in you that overshadows everything else. You're like a tiger; powerful, majestic, deadly, but you've chosen not to bite into the visitors at the zoo. You could kill them, you could kill anyone that came into your space, but you haven't. I think that's what draws people to you. You're wild, unpredictable, but you've got more heart than most people. It's a fire, hot and bright in you."

Brooke literally had no idea what to say nor exactly how to take his estimation of her, not even if it was good or bad. Something else struck her from left field. If she was afraid of this falling apart, was he? Things going badly on this job could mean terrible things for him and he must have seen that. There was nothing clueless about that man. Was he putting up a front for her? He was comforting her to the very best of his ability, but who was going to comfort him?

"Aren't you afraid, John?"

He blinked, taken back by her question, but something flickered behind his eyes, "Well... I..."

The vehicle lurched to a sudden stop, jostling all occupants. Bane jumped down from the cab and into their cargo section. The mask did not hide his rather dubious expression as he cocked his head at them.

"If you two are quite finished with the displays of mutual pining," Bane made a motion for them to separate, "I do believe Harley wants Wayne out there with her."

When the hulking figure threw open the door there was little to do but jump down behind him and face what was being set out before them. It was time to face the end. Looking over Bane's shoulder at the Spa, she could already feel the end edging closer.

The wind swirled around her, tugging insistently on her hair, seeking to free it from the confines of the hair tie. John was a close, grinning shadow at her side the way he was most times, following right at her heels. All was dark and quiet in Gotham, hardly the sight of the crescent moon to offer even remote light. She was well accustomed to the darkness, however, made it her home out of necessity. She could navigate within it as well as most people could in daylight, and it did nothing to hide the oncoming figures from her. The others were edging closer from their own arrival points, gathering in a huddle like some sort of sports team before a play.

The air was biting cold but not enough to freeze yet, at least not under normal conditions. Freeze had a bit of an unfair advantage on the normal weather patterns.

Harley motioned Brooke closer, "We'll go in first, see what we can see." There was a playfulness to the way the other woman nudged her ahead, "Show me what you've got, rich girl!"

"We've just gotta take out one itty bitty guard, then we can get the rest of the gang inside," Harley told her before tossing the for open.

It was surreal how utterly normal the inside looked. It could have been any normal spa. No wonder the public never suspected anything.

When she switched on her contacts, it only took a moment to examine the room and find something of great interest, enough interest that she almost missed Harley's murderous comment; "Time to paint this place red, Brookie!"

"You catch more flies with honey." Brooke waved a dismissive hand, "Why don't you let me work my charms since you brought me along anyway, huh?" She smiled coyly and it dampened Harley's annoyed glare somewhat.

Harley believed her, she trusted her. A piece of Brooke felt the hot sting of guilt for that but she could not afford it. Harley made them enemies by her own choices and there was nothing to be done about that besides stopping whatever plans the woman might try to put into play. This was not about betrayal, it was about defending Gotham.

* * *

They made rather quick work of the Bodhi Spa top level while she circumvented what bloodshed she could. She had a feeling things could have been far more bloody had she not been around. Even if Harley glared at her softer methods, even if they honestly weren't all that soft, the other woman did seem to nearly respect her for it. Even if she had been able to scout the location beforehand she doubted she would have found her information any faster. The lenses were incredibly helpful. Taking out the security was easy and took nothing more than a little hacking from Lucious' programs, which she decidedly avoided thinking about. She could have found the secret door without her lenses though. There was only one door with any real security on it and a larger than life lotus frosted on the glass door. They really weren't being subtle. Another of Lucious' programs took care of that door in seconds. Riddler's eyes got them past the next hurdle.

John was like an excited teenager, oblivious to the dangers, high off the thrill. It should have disturbed her but it only really worried her for his sheer lack of comprehension of the danger. He did not seem bothered by their task, the nature of it, the danger involved, or the fallout if they failed. He was no fool and she knew he understood the danger, he just did not seem to hold it in regard. For that reason, she found herself hyperaware of his proximity to any threat at all times because if he would not look after himself, she would.

To some degree she envied him his ability to throw his worries to the wind, she did not even understand how he could. It was quite the quality, at least. It made him something of a bright beacon and she noticed the others seemed to feel it too. People did not give him enough credit for his oneliner comedic relief though. Under other conditions, she might have at least cracked a smile for his little talent to lighten a mood.

The picture reminded her in something of a fatalistic way that things were not going to last long. Looking at them all on the screen was like looking at the picture of her parents hanging over the fireplace. Soon, if she ever saw that phono again, all it would be was a bitter reminder. Or of course, evidence at her trial if Gordon had his way.

Part of her still hated what she was about to lose because, in a twisted sort of way, she had enjoyed some of her time with the Pact. Bits and pieces had been fun, though not many. She had not been a part of a united faction, a group with the cohesion of goals, in quite some time, not since her family connections to the cities crime were revealed. To an extent, she had missed the connection a cause brought out in people.

She would not miss the lies or the carnage but she knew she would feel something when that tentative, fragile bond shattered. There was a sense of comradery she knew she would miss even if it had always been fabricated. It was a strange sort of sentimentality to feel.

She hated what they did, hated what they stood for, but she could not fully hate them. She was closer to hating Bane than she was Harley, but they were people, in the end, motivated by their own personal reasons. Freeze had talked more on this trip than he had in a single span of time since she met him, and his motivation was likely the purest of all. She hated his actions but she had no room in her heart to hate his desire to see the woman he loved again. Had things been different she would be offering him Wayne technology and assistance rather than a future in a cage.

But this was war.

She had been in wars before. War always carried a cost, often a price she did not want to pay. The price was always so high, a piece of her soul, of what was left of her heart. No doubt John was to be her next cost, and in some ways, the rest of them as well.

Her war on crime drove the point home, the cruel nature of war, by carving away what she loved. It demonstrated without mercy that no matter how hard she might fight, she couldn't save everyone.

Harvey never spoke to her when she went to see him on occasion. He had never said a single word to her and she carried on an entire conversation with him all the same. She let him in on gossip, told him the random news, and she kept it upbeat. The most she got out of him was the occasional smirk or huff that proved he actually was listening.

When she visited Oz it was different. She almost never got the chance to say a word to him. He yelled, there was no real talking that went on. He yelled and shook the bars, and Brooke let him say anything he liked. She took his venom with as much grace as Alfred always taught her to because she knew he needed it. She was willing to weather his storms until he was finally rid of all that toxicity and maybe, one day, he would actually talk to her.

She wondered where John would fall. Between the two? Would he refuse to speak to her or would he scream, raining his anger down on her the way he once showered her with praise? She honestly did not have any desire to find out.

She would probably deserve whatever came her way. Not that she could afford to dwell on that now.

Brooke kept a mental tally of the lives she managed to save thus far. It was only up to two considering she was fairly sure the man at the front desk was dead considering how hard Harley hit him, but keeping a list was something to hold her focus, keep her sane. She needed something to hold onto and she had to take what she could find or allow everything else to eat her alive. She was rather skilled at holding focus.

John cocked his head to one side, staring very intently at her when she stood up from her task of restraining the worker. "You were right."

She pursed her lips and pivoted toward him on her knees, "About what?"

"I am afraid." He admitted quietly, "I keep thinking that this virus was the thing holding us all together. It's what made us stick." He shrugged helplessly and shook his head, "I-I don't know, call me paranoid, but I'm worried once it's gone Harley's gonna, just gonna-just disappeared. I just don't think I could take that kind of rejection. You know, when you invest so much into something it practically becomes who you are."

Her mind flashed back to the mask, to the cave, to the years spent in dedication to her nightlife. She did understand and she understood the fear of having it taken away. John did not have a life outside the Pact, not even a fake one, so it had to be far more terrifying a prospect for him. He had nothing without those people, which was largely her fault. Had she just kept tabs on him, looked into him and found out he had been released he very likely never would have been in the group at all. Yet another mark to add to the failure list.

She took her chance, unsure if it was right or wrong, but knowing she had to try, "Have you thought about sabotaging her plan?"

He looked suddenly brighter, hopeful, "I have, but- I wouldn't even know where to start." The hope was doused only to rekindle, "I've got an idea. What if you help me do it? You're a smart gal, after all."

She nodded, locking eyes with him, "Alright, I'm in. I'll think of something."

"I knew I could count on you, Brooke!" He looked so pleased, so trusting, "We're together, through thick and thin."

She held his eyes, willing him to understand her, "I'll do anything I can to help you, John, remember that."

John nodded, a huge, confident grin on his face, "C'mon buddy, we don't want to get left behind!"

She hoped that was a good thing rather than the beginning of the end. She could always refer back to this moment and try very hard to get him to see that she had been serious, even if she had been misleading. He might be less than enthused, either way, she hoped she could hold herself to that promise when he inevitably needed her help.

She nudged John with her shoulder as they made to catch up with the group and his smile was blinding like he really thought she could fix everything. He didn't know her well enough yet, she thought morbidly.

* * *

Looking out over the damage, the broken playground of mass destruction, it hardly seemed real. It looked like a technological death valley and she hated it. The sterile contamination, ammonia and chemicals, it made her stomach turn. She wished Sanctus had never made their playground in her city and she loathed that she never even spotted them while they had been right under her nose. Batwoman and Brooklyn Wayne had been failing the city and they had done so yet again.

She did not feel like a hero these days, or even what she grew up believing a Wayne was. People always assumed she was a "powderpuff rich girl" that would knuckle under easily if they but applied a little pressure. They did not know her at all. She had other masks, the trouble was, those masks were supposed to be better, they were not supposed to make mistakes or slip. When she slipped, she was that much closer to the true Wayne legacy of destruction for the city. It was true what Selina called them both; "unfeeling monsters hiding in the basement."

She knew that, knew what she was when she stood there, observing the carnage she unleashed. Perhaps being a hero was just a razor edge away from being a monster. She always knew that but the potential drop had never seemed closer than it did when she went undercover, and it just kept edging ever closer with each day. From the first day she pulled on a mask, she knew she could not allow herself to fall over that edge. The rules she placed on herself were to stop her from that sharp plummet. Rules existed to keep her from becoming a monster and she held onto them for dear life, because she always knew what she had the potential to become long before she knew the bent for horrible cruelty was in her blood.

Shortly before, things had not seemed as bleak as they currently did. At least John had managed to slip away and she hoped with all her might that he was where she needed him to be rather than some unknown location.

Several people dragged Bane across the floor like a deadweight. Her head ached and her jaw throbbed from the grip of those huge hands; she would be nursing a headache for a while thanks to those enormous hands. She could feel the blooming imprints of his meaty fingers written on her skin like some medieval branding. She closed her eyes on the sight, already hearing the residual voices of the fight reverberating in her head.

She had known it was the end even as she pressed the button to incinerate all those horrible samples of mass murder and she had not one shred of regret in her. When the door flew from it's locking place, she felt dread, when she ducked Bane's fist, fear, but nothing else. Not even a hint of remorse until Freeze cried out in dismay once they all burst through the door because in his case, she could sympathize. Part of her did wish she could have helped him, but not with this.

She backed away, seeking distance.

"You just signed your death warrant!" Harley's voice had been harsh, strained, hint of hurt hiding under the surface, "Get rid of her, Bane!"

She would not forget the vicious growl of a smile on Bane's face when he pounded his fists together, eyes murderous behind the mask, nor the wide-eyed horror on John's pale face. John followed Bane like a frightened shadow. It was the first time he looked honestly and truly scared since they walked through the upper-level doors.

"You made a grave error, Wayne!" Bane told her somewhat conversationally though overly loud.

"Maybe we should try a therapy circle!" John suggested, sounding calm but his expression was more wary and desperate.

"Do not interfere." Bane warned John with a slash of his hand to force the other man to take a step back, "This is her own doing."

"I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding! She just pushed the wrong button! It could happen to anyone." John persisted, but Bane pushed past him.

"What did you hope to gain, Brooke? There is no place you can go." He did not seem to want to hear her answer considering he pulled a console from the floor and threw it at her like some angry people might toss a table.

When she ducked, he charged her. She fought back, struggled to stay out of his hold, but there was only so much room and she was without her usual arsenal of tools, not even a strip of armor to her name.

She heard Harley call distractedly; "Let it be, John. It's over... for _her_."

All she had was John's razor blade, which she did pull even though she was more than aware it would not save her. She made for higher ground, jumping onto consoles against the wall only to have them pulled up from the ground and out from under her. It did not strictly surprise her considering she'd seen him upturn more and bullets barely slowed the man. He was _so_ strong, and even more so with that serum pumping green in his veins.

Brooke ducked over, under, and around him, slicing at him with the blade for as long as she could, but he inevitably swatter her down like a bug. He kicked the blade from her hand and hauled her up off the ground, kicking and clawing for her freedom. That sense of powerlessness washed over her when not even her tose could find purchase. Kicking him did nothing but widen his enraged smirk.

"To be fair, I warned you never to give me a reason to crush your skull. You did not listen! I thought you were smarter than this."

"You think I'd just let you set a virus on Gotham?!" She hissed, digging her toes into his leg to try to find leverage.

His fingers tightened when he lifted her higher, dislodging her feet, "I did so hope it was not you. I wanted to be wrong."

Her struggle intensified, fear clawing at her insides, but his grip was like iron, the same iron that bashed in a very impressive security door without aid. She tried to send her knee into his chin but he blocked her with his forearm easily.

"You know what happens now. You know my position on betrayal." She could not have responded if she wanted to with his grip choking off her air; he shook her, jarring her brain inside her skull, "No...more...lies!" He bellowed before he began to press.

This was to be her end, she understood that. The pain was intense, the feeling of her skull being compressed, the bones beginning to slowly cave even though the bones were trying to bend, accept the pressure. The pain in her head stole away her focus until there was nothing else in the world. She knew she screamed, she screamed as the very most she could do to protest.

But suddenly the pressure was gone and he dropped her like a rag doll. She hit the floor and felt no pain from the hard impact, only stark relief. The moment she heard John chuckle and saw Bane's overly thick arms swiping at the familiar shape lodge in his back, she understood how and why she was still alive.

"Huh, that's actually not as hard as it looks."

There was no way to actually express the sheer amount of gratitude sweeping through her, "John!"

John laughed again, somehow entirely casual, "Did you see that? Wasn't it _great_?" John clasped his hands, looking at her excitedly.

She panted, struggling to get her feet to work, "Yeah, I saw it."

"What the hell is this?" Bane barked once the Batarang was free of his flesh, and she wondered if he really looked at it.

"You know exactly what it is." John snarled back.

Bane prowled toward John now, fingers flexing at his sides as if refocused on a new threat, "You've made your choice then..." John's face fell, as if he understood some hidden meaning, "too bad it had to be this way. I admit I'm disappointed in this turn of events as I hoped for a better end..."

Brooke surged forward with renewed desperation, intent to keep Bane from ever touching John. She won that fight, technically, with outside help. She won the battle but she lost the war. The outcome was almost everything she feared it could be if she failed. The virus was out on Gotham's streets, ready to kill the people she swore to protect. Bane and Freeze might be contained, but Harley was now the biggest problem they faced.

At the very least the GCPD were rounding up the vehicles once Alfred sent them the locations. Waller had no idea her prizes were being repossessed by those that were not strictly under her control, if only very slightly. Not that she passed the information on the Pact being on the move to the Agency to start with but she doubted they would be in the dark long at all. She would need to visit the trucks herself the second she left and gather the information personally before the Agency could.

Brooke cradled John's razor in her palm and slipped it back into her pocket. It had taken some looking but she found it as well as the Batarang she had given John. Unfathomable John, strange and disturbing, yet somehow charming under his glaring contrary differentness. Her Arkham knight. Now wasn't that a silly thought?

It was time to make her exit, time for Batwoman to take over the case. Brooke had been handling things all wrong so perhaps her other face could make some sort of rectification over the disaster. At the very least, Batwoman would be better the push of a button, she called the car, hoping Selina had not taken it too far away before inevitably leaving it behind; she knew Catwoman was unlikely to have accepted the offer to stay in the mansion. She made to flee, already itching to be ensconced in the familiar metal skin of her true self when Avesta stepped into her path.

"Wait, I need to speak with you!" Avesta looked so in control and yet there was something hiding just below, something desperate and shaken.

* * *

While she had always known she could never trust Waller, it seemed even she had underestimated the coldblooded bent of the woman. Leaving Freeze to die and trying to steal Riddler's blood? It was unconscionable, treating human life with so little regard. Freeze did not deserve to be treated that way, no one did. His information did open up a few new puzzles for them though. Fortunately, she had been right to scatter the crew, it left them vulnerable and far easier to capture particularly as they were currently leaderless. There were a few elements still at large but the majority of the key components were in custody.

What Waller had intended to do with all they found was only partly clear, though Avesta had a multitude of theories and they all sounded frighteningly likely. Lucky for them, Waller was never in possession of the blood even if she had gotten to the body and destroyed it before she realized the blood was in Batwoman's hands. The Agency moved fast, too fast in this case, to realize their error. The virus, save the vial in Harley's possession, was destroyed. The woman was far too preoccupied with Sanctus to keep accurate enough track of Brooke's movements, and that was only partially comforting. No doubt, if she fully realized who stole the blood, she would be after Brooke's own blood. She owed Avesta for that particular save considering she diverted more than enough people away from their activity to allow them to accomplish their goals.

Eventually, once they had all the facts in place, Waller would answer for her more than questionable activity but that would have to come later, once the situation had been neutralized. She might not trust Waller but the woman still had a significant hold on her that she would need to get out from under before she could really make a difference. The list of pressing issues was ever growing and it drove her insane.

There were some silver linings, though. Batwoman owed Gordon's right-hand woman considering she let her essentially steal anything from evidence she so chose. There were perks to being the enemy of the enemy, in this case, Waller's enemy. The GCPD, Bullock included, would probably have legitimately trusted the Mob over Waller, which worked out well for Batwoman.

Batwoman prowled around the front of the Batmobile, ready to speed away, but Avesta stopped her once again, "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere I needed to be ages ago."

"I'll go with you." The Agent offered quickly.

"Sorry... this one needs to be... just me. Thank you for your help. I'll be in touch."

Brooke needed to handle this particular mission. Even Batwoman would be a poor choice. She had most of the key element, now all she needed to do was find Harley. That was a job she could not accomplish in Kevlar, however. If John was where she desperately hoped he was, he could help her with that issue. She wished she could have gone to him sooner but she had to prioritize.

She changed hastily, as did the car panels before she hurried to the penthouse. Opening the door was like torture, slow and tentative as well as crushing because none of the lights were on. She turned some of them on as she went, almost afraid to utter his name for fear there would be no answer. Her heart was hammering so frantically it was painful, pounding harder than it had while she was in Bane's clutches.

It was with dread for the inevitable silence that she finally whispered; "John? Are you here?" Somehow she could feel her hands shaking as she forced her feet to keep moving.

She opened doors, heart sinking with each new dark room. There was a room, in particular, she wanted to check though, for her own peace of mind. Her knees almost gave out in the rush of relief the moment she walked into the media room and found him sprawled out face down on the couch. He seemed to be sleeping, though she suspected the two empty wine bottles on the table might have contributed to that.

The shaking lingered in her fingers but she was breathing more easily as she tiptoed closer. She knew he would be in a state but she had not expected him to drown himself in her wine cabinet. Then again, if she had come sooner he might not have needed to. If she had been there for him, he might be in a considerably better state of mind. Brooke reached toward him, fingers barely brushing against his soft hair.

He sprung into a sitting position and she nearly swallowed her tongue in a gasp. "Brooke!" and he cackled, looking at her with unfocused eyes. "You came!"

"Of course." She replied quietly, easing down onto the cushion beside him, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here."

He looked at the floor, hands dangling over his knees. "She hates me."

"I'm sure she doesn't hate you, John." She knew exactly who they were talking about, and at least he brought it up himself.

"Oh, yes, she does. She's furious that I defended you. Furious that she's lost everything because of you. Furious that I brought you into the Pact." John seemed to sag with each point.

"Have you seen her?" Brooke asked, unable to keep her eyes from running a quick sweep of the room and all the potential hiding spots.

"No. But I did talk to her." He pointed vaguely at the phone, "I came here to hide out the minute I got out of there, just like you told me to."

"I'm glad you did. I'm glad you're safe." She kept her voice quiet, aiming for soothing.

"What else could I do? I have no place to go." His voice was loud, breaking on some words.

"I know..." Clearly, that was not the thing to say judging by the way he stiffened.

"You knew things were about to go down though... didn't you?" It was then that he faced her, brows turned down in a glare, "You got some real nerve, you know that, _buddy_?" For the first time, that word sounded more menacing than endearing, "I stuck my neck out for you. Way out!"

"I know..." She said again, and again, it wasn't the right thing.

"You convinced me to sabotage the whole operation! And for what? She flew the coop! I have nothing! You steered me wrong at every turn. Every bad piece of advice. Everything blew up in my face." His voice kept cracking with emotion and it broke something in her too.

She hated seeing him like this, hated it! He really did not deserve any of this. All he had done was trust in the wrong people and she too had been guilty of that more than once. He was hurt and felt abandoned, probably alone. She needed to assure him somehow but she was not sure how. Comforting people was not something she was overly skilled at but she owed him the attempt. Though she also still needed him, needed his help. She needed to balance that.

She dropped her eyes guiltily, "I'm sorry, John... I know I let you down. I was honestly trying to help."

"Well then, newsflash! You're bad at helping, Brooke. Like Bad Helping Hall of Fame bad."

A sad smile edged onto her lips, "I know. I tend to make a mess of most things. I told you that and you never believed me. There is a reason I don't have many friends. I never wanted to see you get hurt, I really didn't. I hoped I could protect you... you know, in return."

"I trusted you." It was the first quiet thing he had said.

"I know."

John sprang from the seat, "Will you stop saying that?"

Brooke caught his wrist before he could go on, "You can still trust me. I've always been on your side."

"Have you? Was it really my side you were on? I'm not so sure anymore." John's voice was low, edging on angry.

"It's not over, John. Harley betrayed us. Both of us." She began, but he cut her off, pulling away to pace.

"Yeah, but you weren't in love with her. It makes a difference when someone you love drives a knife into your back!" John ran frustrated fingers over his hair, growling at the air, "There's no point. It _is_ over. The Pact. The dream. Us."

Just the mention of the Pact stirred up the Bat, "Not yet it's not. She's still out there. With a deadly virus in a city full of innocent people."

He glared, eyes narrowed to slits, "Call me when you got something I care about." John pulled one of Harley's guns from between the cushions, "Always surprises me how heavy guns are. This was hers."

Sheer, terrible panic washed over her, unsure if he intended to shoot her or if he might... turn the gun on himself, "It's gonna be okay, John." She stood very slowly, hands raised, inching toward him, "I promise. I care about you, John. You know that."

He looked at the gun, contemplating it, "I'm nearly out of reasons to believe you anymore, Brooke. Everything you've ever said to me... you had another agenda hiding under the surface."

"If you only ever believe one thing I tell you, believe me when I tell you that I do care about you. Please?" She moved closer, trying to get close enough to catch hold of the gun, "John. Stop. Please?"

John looked into her concerned eyes and his shoulders dropped with a strange sound of defeat, "Yeah, actually. That's not a bad idea." He tossed the gun onto the table without a care.

Her body sagged with relief, thankful he had not hurt himself, or her either. She scooped up the gun to be sure he could not reach for it again, tucking it away in a magazine holder attached to the coffee table.

"Well, it's been real." He clapped his hands together and moved around her, heading for the door.

She jerked back to attention, following him instantly, "What are you doing, John?"

"Leaving. There's nothing left for me here." He just kept walking.

Nothing left? What was the penthouse then? What was she? It was always Harley and it would always be Harley. She knew it deep down but it burned away at the tender spot in her heart where John resided.

"What?" She sped up and planted herself in the doorway, "No, you're not! It's not safe out there for you! You are staying here!"

"Don't tell me what to do, Ms. Control freak!" John shouted, shoving at her shoulder.

"Damn it, John!" She snapped, her own anger kicked up, "Listen to me! You need to stay here where it's safe! You can be mad at me all you like, but I'm not letting you just walk out of here."

There was a flash in his eyes before he grabbed her around the waist, lifted her, and slammed her into the wall. She let out a yelp of pained surprise, feeling her injuries afresh when he pressed against her, crushing her against the cool surface of the wall. Without any real thought, she wrapped her legs around his waist, ready to throw them both to the side before she caught herself, forcing herself to stay still. Something about the moment reminded her of her fresh fight with Bane, and maybe he was thinking the same because she felt him uncoiling inexplicably.

John's eyes were fixed on her throat and he let go of her with one arm in order to lift his fingers and trace her bruised jaw, "You're hurt." He said gently, his eyes going soft.

As if seeing the finger marks on her skin was enough to shift him back, now she was faced with the far more familiar John. Everything about him turned gentle and careful. He leaned in, inspecting the marks, tips of his fingers ghosting over her skin. She tilted her head, allowing him to examine her. It surprised her when she felt his lips pressing feather-light against the bruises, his breath fanning over her. It was a highly intimate gesture but one lacking any sort of perversion. He was so... good. Good to her. Innocent in his own twisted way.

"He could have killed you," John whispered against her neck.

"You didn't let him." She put her arms around his shoulders and leaned in, hugging him.

"I couldn't. I..." He trailed off.

"You always come to my rescue." She let her lips press to his cheek before she nested her face into his neck.

He might always want Harley but she knew herself well enough to realize that now, she would always want John. Neither one of them were very likely to have what they wanted. That tended to happen in life. Nothing was ever so simple, least of all love. Love was the most twisted of all, the most deranged. Love made people crazy, made them fools, made them do the worst things. There was no logic in love. It hurt like nothing else.

He turned away from the wall and settled her back on her feet, cupping her face in both his hands as if he could not stand seeing the finger imprints when he looked at her, "Sorry about pushing you, I kinda lost my head for a second."

"You're angry with me and you have a right to be. Things have been chaotic, you lashed out. I've done it too." He always forgave her, forgiving him one of his moments was the least she could do.

He closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together.

The Bat in her could not be kept silent forever, even for him, "I need to find Harley before she makes things any worse. Can you tell me where she might go?"

John pulled away like she slapped him, "I don't want to do this anymore! I don't want to find her. My heart can't take another kicking. I don't ever want to see her again. She ruined me. I can't."

"You don't need to see her, I want you to stay here, where it's safe. Just tell me where to look and I'll handle it."

John cocked a brow, "She'd kill you on sight."

Brooke lifted her chin, "She might try." At his look she sighed and crossed her arms, "It's important I find her, for her sake as well as everyone else. I know it hasn't been easy for us, and you're not sure about me anymore, but I want to look out for you. I want to look out for her too. I've made mistakes but I am your friend. We'll have to deal with our issues at some point, but right now we need to deal with this."

He looked at her with that fond sort of exasperation, "Okay, buddy. That Wayne charm gets 'em every time. You sure know how to spin things. All the right ways to twist my arm."

"I'm not trying to spin things or twist your arm, John. I'm serious."

He kept smiling, perhaps even partly convinced, "It's going to take me a few hours to find her. I have to check a few places. Do some things."

"No, you're staying here. The Agency is after you and I'm not risking them finding you. I'll check any leads you give me, we can stay in touch on the phone."

"Like I said, she'll kill you on sight. You might find her but you wouldn't keep her long. She'd never let you close enough."

She frowned but decided he might be right, at least about not getting close enough to catch her alone, "Okay, I'll come with you."

He laughed, "No. You won't." It sounded so cold, "There will be plenty of time for John and Brooke later. This is... I need to do this alone. I'll call you when I find something."

"John, anything could happen to you out there! Depending on where you were, I might not be able to get there on time." She protested.

He smirked, "You know, I did manage to get around before you, right? I'm pretty good at it."

"I don't like it, John! It would be safer for both of us if we were together."

"Fine, but let me check a few things alone first. Once I'm done, I'll call you and we'll hit it together."

That was less than satisfactory, "What about a compromise?"

John lifted his chin, regarding her down his nose, "I'm listening."

"You come home with me for a little while so I can check up on something, then I'll take you anywhere you want me to. I'll stay in the car, quiet as a mouse, no questions asked. That way we're still together but I won't get in your way."

"Your home? As in Wayne Manor?" He looked like he was expecting a negative but there was distinct underlying excitement.

"Yeah, that's the one."

John's smile looked a little more real, "Deal!" He stuck out his hand to shake on the agreement, "Can I see your room?"

Brooke blinked at him, "Uhhh... okay..." Anything to keep him happy.

He shook her had firmly, "I've always wondered, how may rooms are in that house?"

"I'm not really sure. I'm not sure even Alfred knows."

"Do you sleep in the same room you did as a kid or do you sleep in the master bedroom?"

"I- well..." At least now she knew what to use as bribery. He must have a thing for old family mansions. She never would have guessed.

* * *

Note:I had this edited once before but then my computer decided to undo all my changes. I think I probably cursed it for an hour. I tried to fix it again but who knows. I think I lost a lot of the flow I had in the first edit. It's choppy now but i don't remember everything I did the first go. Enjoy anyway!


	8. Chapter 8

**Telltale Bats**

I made a tumblr for Telltale Bats and other works! It's currently dedicated to the Bat verse but I'll probably post other story stuff too. I made a couple example aesthetic boards to show you my ideas of Brooke's appearance. Some I haven't posted yet but I will (go to my page and search Brooklyn Wayne and it should all pop up if you don't want to look at anything else). I plan to post some arts for the story there (once I finish them). It's phantomzone4inspiration if you want to check it out! And of course you can ask me stuff.

* * *

At the very last second, Brooke remembered not to drive off into the Batcave, instead, driving John up to the front of the house and sliding into a showy stop directly before the stairs. His clapping and squeaks of delight might have egged her on a bit but who was going to tell on her? John loved it when she did tricks with the car and the car could handle anything she dished out. She felt it was a win for all parties involved.

John nearly fell over backward trying to simultaneously look at her, the rather tall manor, and all the grounds at once. This was the side of him that made her feel instantly protective because he was precious and innocent below everything else he exhibited. Whatever he had been before Arkham, he was just... almost too like a child in his gleeful tendencies. He did not deserve to have any more grief in his life. She wanted to see him happy like that for as long as possible, which would not happen if Waller got her hands on him.

Something about John had really set the other woman off on a vendetta, which raised some questions in Brooke's mind about the potential reasons for that. Regardless, she would drag the woman into oncoming traffic before she let her harm John. While it was true he'd played a significant part in the Pact it just had not been that cut and dry. It would not actually be justice to see John punished when he wasn't fully... cognitive of the issues. He had never killed anyone. She recalled murder being on his list of issues he had with Riddler aside from his being rude, which was interesting considering he seemed not to make the same connection with what Harley did. His views on right and wrong were not quite what the general populace would consider stable so he would probably never go to Blackgate but she did not want to see him sent back to Arkham because of Harley either.

John needed guidance and she thought she could provide him with that if given the chance. She was in the position to provide for him and help him the way most ordinary citizens were not. That probably was unfair to favor him like that when others probably also deserved a chance, but regardless, it was something she could offer John. She really felt he deserved the chance. He had no one but her to stand up for him.

"This is _some_ place you've got!" He gushed excitedly, turning in little circles as he walked up the steps, which made her instantly worried, but he didn't make even a hint at missing a step.

He had a sort of feline instinct about his surroundings, she noticed, a strange, almost clumsy grace. It hardly made sense but it fit him somehow. Something like a stray cat that never quite learned how to be a cat but still possessed all the attributes of a cat all the same.

"I can't really take credit for it. It was here long before I existed." She shrugged one shoulder, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"I suppose, but still, it's really impressive! I can't believe you live here!" He shuffled excitedly behind her when she opened the door.

"It gets less impressive in the winter when it's cold and drafty." She told him simply.

John cackled loudly, "Don't feel bad, Arkham gets pretty drafty too. At least here you can build a fire."

It was almost startling the way Tiffany rushed out of the drawing room, a glare already directed at John. "Brooke! I... wasn't sure when you'd be getting back."

"She lives here too?" John turned a perplexed eye on Brooke.

"No, I asked her to come here until things quieted down. It's safer if we stick together like I said. You can't be too careful."

John cocked his head, considering her in what might be a fresh sort of way. It was hard to tell what he was thinking but she hoped it was something good. "I can see that."

Tiffany crossed her arms in that distinctively defensive way, her eyes locked on John, "What's going on, Brooke?" Her voice was even but there was that underlying wariness clinging to it.

In her GCU hoodie, she looked so much younger, so much more unsure than she did in her typical business wear. It was a harsh reminder just how young this girl was. Brooke had watched her grow up and it seemed entirely unfair the way things had turned out, having her trapped unavoidably in the current situation. Moreover, in some ways, trapped in a similar cycle to the one Brooke herself was in. Tiffany had been so carefree and full of hope that day she had come into Brooke's office just before Lucious' death. There was no trace of that girl left in her face now and perhaps that was the worst thing she had seen Riddler do, in some ways. Losses had a way of hardening what had once been soft and open. Lucious would have hated seeing her like this.

She could not help balling her fingers into fists, working to control the surge of emotions her thoughts brought on, hiding her fists away in her pockets. Now was not the time to dwell on grief. There would be time to do that later, even if she secretly knew there never was a later, never was a good time. Avoidance was so much simpler in the end.

"We're working the case." Brooke said, then glanced at John herself, "He's helping me."

John waved, offering that impossibly wide grin, "If it helps, I never liked Riddler. Hated the guy!"

Brooke's shoulders tensed but Tiffany's entire frame might as well have turned to stone. John would bring up the very most sensitive topic they all shared in the first few seconds of a conversation. She was not even surprised. Maybe Tiffany wasn't surprised either because, after a tense moment, she partially thawed enough to shrug noncommittally. Maybe that confession did help in some way.

"I guess we do have things in common then, huh?" Tiffany studied John a little harder but shook it off, refocusing, "Um, Brooke, I did kind of need to talk to you though. About something private." She glanced at John, "Girl talk."

"Right, right!" John's eyes widened, "Uh, hey, where is your bathroom? It's a big place, might take me a while to look for it. Mind pointing me in the right direction?"

That wonderful, amazing, gentle, forgiving, understanding, darling man! She mentally cringed at her inward gushing. Probably too many endearments to consider when he was in love with the current villain of the month. She needed to get a little control on that and make sure she didn't smile at him like an idiot. The reactions in the brain to falling in love were horrible! They created artificial happiness and it might feel very addicting to adore him but she could not afford it! It was dopamine, she reminded herself, and it could not sway her. She was a strong, independent, secret identity carrying force-of-justice with no time for that sort of foolishness. She needed to remember her usual stony outer layer and get that back in place.

Brooke gave him a detailed set of instructions, also throwing in directions to the kitchen and her room as if they were inconsequential. She remembered he asked to see her room and she hoped that either the kitchen or exploring would keep him busy. She was not overly worried about him wandering around the house, it was _downstairs_ she kept anything she needed. The ground level did not really matter to her. He could steal the silverware for all she cared.

John nearly raced up the stairs and vanished to parts unknown with a blatantly gleeful expression on his face. She highly doubted he was actually headed for the bathroom, she thought it far more likely he was interested in vast exploration considering how eager he was to see the house. A lot of people were rather interested in the house so she could not exactly fault him on that. most people did not live in a mansion so it was only natural for others to be curious. John only knew Arkham and Old Five Points so it was even more understandable in his case.

"I know it's your house, but are you so sure that was a good idea?" Tiffany asked, staring at the last spot John had been visible, "More than that, are you sure it's a good idea to bring him in?" She turned her eyes on Brooke, still glaring, "He seemed pretty tight with Harley last I knew."

"We can trust him." Brooke asserted firmly, hoping to end it there, "He's a friend and I owe him my life on multiple occasions... actually, we both do. He's gone against Harley and the rest of the Pact for me a dozen times. He might seem...unpredictable, and I guess, in a lot of ways he is more than just a wild card, but he always comes through. I wouldn't even be alive if he hadn't risked his life to protect me tonight."

"So, what, he's just going to give up crime and be a contributing member of society now?" She asked incredulously, "You can really tell me you don't think he's dangerous? You just admitted he's unpredictable, how can you be sure the wind won't change and he'll decide to switch sides on you?"

"He's had more than enough chances to throw me to the wolves, times it would have been highly beneficial for him to, and he hasn't done it. He's stuck by me. Maybe it's not logical but he's on our side."

"You sure it's _our_ side he's on..." there was that analytical narrowing of her eyes and tilt of her head, "and not just _yours_?"

"Does it really matter at this point? We're running low on support and we could use another person out there we can trust. He's turning over a new leaf so maybe we shouldn't withhold our support simply because his motives aren't absolutely clear. I believe in him, I know he can help us, he's done it before."

There were a long few moments when Tiffany did nothing but stare deep into Brooke's eyes, deducing and calculating. The girl was every bit as shrewd as her father had been, every bit as intelligent. Whatever their eyes were saying, whatever Tiffany was reading, she could only hope it helped smooth things over. She knew perfectly well bringing John into most of her known circles of influence would not go absolutely without issue but she desperately hoped they could all work together peacefully. Her growing little family, her inner circle was important to her but so was John. If they could only get to know him the way she had she was sure they would understand in time. John deserved a chance, he was a good man deep down, if a bit unhinged.

With a deep breath drawn in through her nose, Tiffany nodded, "I guess you know him better than I do... and I guess I don't have..." her eyes flickered away into the distance, "enough room to judge him. If you tell me it's safe I guess I'll believe you."

A voice that was very distinctly John's called out "Echo!" from somewhere in the mansion and Brooke could not hold in her sudden laughter, "He keeps things interesting. I know he'll grow on you."

Tiffany's smile turned into a smirk, "Like he grew on you?"

Brooke was still grinning, enjoying the aftertaste of the laugh, "You'd be surprised how fast he sneaks up on you. He's hard not to love."

Tiffany made a humming sound, "Alright." With a sigh she dropped her arms to her sides, seeming to let down her harsh walls, she glanced in John assumed direction again, "If you say he's in, I guess that's good enough for me."

Brooke could not hold off the fond, gentle smile she gave the girl, so desperately appreciative. With the quirk of lips Tiffany offered in return it was very clear she already knew.

Brooke turned her attention to matters of current relevance, "Has Alfred finished with the analysis yet?"

Tiffany kept her eyes turned enough that she would spot any sort of potential movement but more or less focused on Brooke, "No idea. He hasn't been around for a while now. I figured he was doing... whatever it was you needed him to."

"I better see how that's coming along. It might be finished by now, after all the time it took me to get here."

"Busy night?" If there was a hint of innuendo in the younger woman's tone, Brooke missed it.

"Extremely! But the worst is still to come, I'm afraid. It's far from over but if we can just get out in front of it we might be able to negate the damage, at least marginally."

Tiffany waved a hand at her, "You go check on things. Do your thing and I'll keep an eye out up here. Once you're finished though, I actually do have some things to talk to you about but you better check up on your leads first. The more you know, right?"

"If you want to come along I'm sure John can fend for himself. I told him where the kitchen was but I doubt he'll surface for a while, not in this place."

Tiffany hesitated, wavering between a protective distrust and curiosity, "You sure that's wise to just... leave him alone in your house like that?"

She would have jumped at the chance to see a secret passage a few weeks before. Since it was all her father's technology, once she knew it existed, she might have beaten Brooke to opening it all up. She was so much more closed off. If there was any way to draw her back out of that place she slipped into, Brooke intended to find it. Tiffany needed her, and while she was no Lucious, she really owed it to him to try. Perhaps if she had only agreed to bring Tiffany in originally things could have been different. Then again, maybe they would both have died. There was no way to spin it to make it right, most likely. Gotham dealt them all a poor hand once again.

Brooke smiled indulgently, "I wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't. Everything of value to me is highly protected. No one can just walk into a protected section of the house."

"I'm supposed to believe that you are so covert when you're wearing a designer jacket and a hat you stole from Alfred's closet? Was that supposed to make you look tough and edgy? In touch with the crime world? Because nothing spells danger like Alfred's dated hats and expensive leather?" Tiffany was teasing but there was a hint of genuine incredulity hiding under it.

The younger generation probably was much better at blending in than an aging CEO but far be it for a Wayne to admit that. She could be covert when she wanted to be, after all, she had been hiding a secret identity for quite some time and pulled that off rather nicely. Part of her ineptitude was actually a ploy anyway. Things went far better if others underestimated her. If they did not expect her to beat them at their own games they could hardly see it coming? That applied to everything Brooke did. And the hat? Well, she liked having something of Alfred's close since it helped remind her who she was when she was out there. It worked well enough.

"How did you know it was Alfred's?" Brooke adjusted the cap.

"You're not the only detective in Gotham, Sherlock. Plus I've seen him wear it."

Brook rolled her eyes like a teenager, "You haven't seen it in action. It was very good luck! It's also retro-edgy, thank you! I'm going to change before I go down anyway!"

"If you say so." Tiffany rolled her eyes in return, "Anyway, I'll go with you later. I don't want you to blame me when things go south and the house burns down." She asserted like some all-knowing doom predilection.

Brooke shook her head with a huff, "Alright, alright, pessimist, if you're that worried, keep an eye open." She bumped shoulders with the girl as she passed to enter the little room housing the main entrance to the cave, "Be careful though, or you'll end up just as paranoid as me. And I was committed to Arkham."

Tiffany did laugh then, "Noted. But somebody has to keep you on track."

They used to talk like this more often. There was a lighter tone before everything went wrong and Brooke had missed the way they used to argue in jest. Some of the warmth was gone now but they were trying to hold onto it. It was a little forced but it was still flowing. That was a better sign than none at all.

"If he resurfaces, you two could keep busy in the kitchen. Maybe raid the ice cream section. I think Alfred was complaining I don't eat enough sugary junk food. You guys could help me out and pretend I did it."

The full roll of Tiffany's eyes was very much like Brooke had seen on a much younger girl, "Oh, now I know you're full of it! You do realize I've met Alred, right? Not to mention he's used a line suspiciously like that one on me before. I think he was giving me cookies though, telling me all about how you said he was too skinny and you couldn't trust a skinny cook."

Brooke shrugged, flipping open the glass over the clock mechanism, "He did raise me. Where do you think I learned half the things I know?"

"You mean you weren't born this way?"

"Maybe a little, but that would be telling."

* * *

Returning to the cave had been anything but pleasant. She felt wild, crawling things under her skin. She was unsure anything had ever frightened her the way seeing that tray of tea on the floor had because she knew something was wrong the second she saw it. Things had only been worse from there. Alfred was in less than ideal condition and it terrified her. He was ill though she did not strictly know what was wrong, something clearly was.

Brooke was shaking when she stumbled her way into the kitchen after situating Alfred very carefully in a chair by the fire. He had seemed so fragile and there was little more terrifying than that. Alfred was her rock just like Gordon was for Batwoman. It was strange to have both the men she centered her stability on teetering for balance. A very large, secret part of her wanted nothing more than to run directly back to the cave and put on the suit, longing for that freedom, longing for the suspension of other realities it offered. She wanted nothing more than to go out an fight someone, anyone; Bane. A dark part of her itched for a rematch, one where she had her toys the same way he had his venom, something brutal and dangerous. Reckless. Vengeful. She tried to quiet that side of her. She could not feed that cloying hunger. He was in custody anyway.

Brooke knew she needed to focus. There was no choice but to be in her own skin at the present regardless of the way in made her insides crawl. While she was intent on acquiring a hot cup of tea for Alfred, she found more than she expected to. It stopped her dead in her tracks. She forgot John and Tiffany were even in the house until she opened the door to find them both on stools at the island with heaping bowls of ice cream in front of them. John's smile hit her almost like a spotlight when he looked up at her.

"Brooke!" John waved his spoon at her, but his smile dwindled as he studied her, that insecurity creeping in, "Tiffany told me you said we should have ice cream. I thought, if you said we should, we should. But if you didn't want us to... or, I mean, if you wanted us to wait for you?"

"That's fine, I did tell her that," Brooke confirmed, walking past both of them to open the tea cabinet.

"Did you... want some?" John's voice was again oddly hesitant.

"No." She looked back in time to see John shrink a bit and realized she was being unintentionally short with him, making him feel uncomfortable.

Tiffany was watching the man so closely it might burn him, she looked at him like one of her projects. Brooke could not find it in her wrung out emotions to offer anything at all.

Busying herself with readying a tea kettle with water and setting it on the stove, she forgets to even notice the other two. Her mind was lost in Alfred a few rooms away. He was suffering and in poor health and she was helpless to know how to make that go away. She knew he deserved a vacation but now she expects he needs even more than that. Perhaps a specialized health spa, though decidedly not one in Gotham. She'll never trust a spa in Gotham again, might never trust any business in Gotham again.

John bumping into her as a way of letting her know he was there startled her the way it likely shouldn't have. She turned wide eyes on him but said nothing.

"Soooo," John swayed on his feet like a puppet, "I'm in? Joined the club? The merry band? Knights of the round? The Musketeers? Do we have code names?"

Tiffany arched one brow, glancing at Brooke as if to confirm that John was for real. Brooke forced a smirk, trying desperately to seem normal, "Something like that, yeah." She focused herself on picking a perfect, calming tea blend in hopes that it would make some sort of difference for Alfred. "No code names though. I'd say it's more like...it's a small family around here. We... only have each other, really."

John chuckled darkly, sadly, "Sounds like a place I could fit in. I don't have anyone anymore either."

"You'll always have a place here." She hadn't thought over her words, she would have said the same to anyone, but John looked at her like she'd made some grand declaration completed by a sudden increase of moisture in his eyes around his waterline.

John was so fragile, in a way. Life had been too cruel to him and he expected so little. He took Harley's insults and the threats of the Pact members like they meant nothing; like they were normal; like they might just have been bonding expressions. When anyone showed him common decency it surprised him and made him emotional. It was a sad commentary on the life he'd lived.

"You're always welcome, John. As a friend of mine, my door is always open to you."

"Really? Well," he puffed up like a peacock, "like I've said, through thick and thin! We're a team!" He was grinning and seemed back to his usual self but it was hard to tell with nothing further to go on. He was probably still upset but they would have to put that off for the moment.

When she reached for a tin of lavender her hand was shaking and she clenched in around the metal box. The tension, the worry was bubbling up inside her terribly and that sickly, cloying desire to crush things was difficult to resist. As it was she might have left a tiny dent in the can when she removed the lid. She tried to focus on her heartbeat and taking one breath at a time. She was a being of control, not unrest.

His smile turned into a frown as he watched her measure dry leaves into the tea infuser, "Everything alright?"

"Fine." She replied shortly, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slacks. She no longer needed her "criminal" clothing so she was back in her usual attire.

"You sure? You look pretty upset." John edged closer, touching her arm as if to gentle a spooked animal.

Did it show that much? "It's- yeah, it's fine. Alfred... isn't feeling well."

That got Tiffany's attention and she was moving around the island quickly, "Is he alright?"

Brooke swallowed, "I think he needs... lots of rest. I was thinking... you might be able to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't move around too much. John and I have things to look into but I'd rather not leave him alone. The doctor is on her way, but until then, he should be watched."

She frowned, a hint of fear in her eyes, "How serious is it? You can be straight with me. You don't need to sugarcoat it."

"It's... definitely concerning. I don't know, at least not yet. He's been having trouble lately but... it's getting worse rather than better."

Brooke lifted her fingers to her temple and rubbed a few circles into her skin, trying to ease the pain that had been building since Bane nearly crushed her. When she'd seen Alfred the adrenaline made her forget it entirely but now that she was relaxing the pain was returning with more force. John's focus on her intensified like he knew what she was feeling. He got closer, shoulder pushing against hers like he wanted to give her something to lean on.

"I would have been watching him if you'd told me, you know? You guys are so secretive about everything." Tiffany crossed her arms over her chest, seeming extensively more tense than before.

"I wasn't intentionally keeping you in the dark. I just wasn't expecting him to take a turn for the worse." Brooke was careful to keep sharpness from her tone to avoid sounding defensive or harsh.

"This whole thing lately has been pretty stressful, for both of you. You probably both need a long rest, a lot of rest." Tiffany said softly.

"I already promised him a vacation. He's due one after all he's been through. There just hasn't been the downtime I expected after Lady Arkham kidnapped him there wasn't nearly enough time before Riddler showed his ugly head, then Sanctus." Brooke gripped the stone countertop with vengeance.

"Wait, what?" Tiffany's brows shot high on her forehead but John's shot higher and he echoed with, "Yeah, what she said."

Brooke waved them both away when the kettle whistled, "There isn't time to explain that. John and I need to be on the move again soon and the doctor won't be much longer." She carefully drizzled the steaming water over the infuser, watching the soothing motion of color overtake the clear liquid. "Maybe you could wait in the car while I tell Tiffany what to expect from the doctor? You can bring the ice cream with you." Brooke offered distractedly as she glided past both of them.

"Oh, sure, right!" John followed close on her heels but turned back around suddenly, as if remembering the offer of bringing his treat with him.

Tiffany followed without further comment or protest, at first. Once they were far enough away, she spun Brooke toward her, almost making her spill the tea. "What is really going on with Alfred and why am I only now finding out you have a bombshell like kidnapping to drop? Is he sick because of that?"

Brooke stroked the handle of the cup with her thumb, "It's not unrelated. He's had tremors since his abduction. It was traumatic for him. He most likely has PTSD because of it but there could be more going on than that."

"What doe she say about it? What does he think it is?"

"You'll have to ask him more about that. He tends to try to shelter me, keep me in the dark about his own wellbeing."

"Runs in the family, huh?" Tiffany shook her head, "Also, I didn't want to ask with company but what exactly did you do to your neck? Seeing you from this angle in the light, those look a lot like fingers marks. Just saying."

"I..." Brooke caught herself before she could say something stupid about falling, "I told you what I was doing was dangerous. The people were dangerous too."

"Is it always like that?" Tiffany motioned to her neck.

"There are good and bad days."

When they went into the study Tiffany was quick to sit beside Alfred, covertly cooing over him. She was unafraid to grill him on his condition, however, and grill him she did. Alfred was as hesitant to talk about his health with her as he was Brooke but Tiffany was less than convinced. Eventually, there came the moment Brooke would later roll over in her mind, the moment Tiffany decided to bring up her ideas.

"After our talk at your office, I had an idea." Her demeanor changed as she slid to her feet, "There's something I want to show you."

Brooke was unsure what this idea could be until Tiffany retrieved her tablet, "So. I've been working on this in my spare time. I know you said I needed to train, but..."

Brooke eased to her feet and there when the younger girl flipped the screen around, was a model of Tiffany wearing...

"I started thinking about a tactical suit... In case I'm ever needed in the field. Para-aramid synthetic lining. Photo adaptive suit coloring. Full spectrum, full surround heads-up display." She sounded just like her father, "I should be able to get the mesh fabricated in no time."

Brooke was hit with a sudden way of nostalgia, perhaps dread, perhaps excitement, but not quite confident in this sudden proposal. Alfred looked hesitant as well, adjusting his glasses awkwardly.

"I'm getting ahead of myself. The last thing you want is me out there on the rooftops with you." Tiffany looked let down.

"No, no, those are wonderful ideas!" Brooke rushed to assure her, not liking the look of rejection, "... just, not this soon. It's very good work, very proactive, but you might need to slow down slightly. As I've said, it's dangerous. Let's take it slow. I trained for years, studied multiple fighting styles, strategy, tactics... I would never throw you off said rooftops without seeing you trained."

"I know, I got overly excited."

"That's not bad, we just have to take a step back. You're on the right track. I'm not against the idea. I want you trained for any and all eventualities but I want you trained." Brooke struggled with all her initial urges but she knew she had to tread carefully.

Tiffany smiled, "This wasn't all just about me." She began to tap at the screen again, "You've been going up against some heavy opposition, Brooke. More than usual. Alfred told me how Bane nearly killed you."

Something highly defensive sparked in her irrationally and she shot Alfred a look, crossing her arms under her breasts. Alfred shrugged innocently.

"So I designed you this." Tiffany offered forward the device again.

Brooke's stomach hit her toes, "That's a gun."

"Let me get you the specs."

"Batwoman doesn't use guns, Tiffany." Alfred offered reasonably, calm as a summer breeze.

Tiffany's eyes widened, "You mean...at all? I gues I've never seen you use one." She conceeded, "But I didn't realize that was like, a rule."

"I don't use guns because Batwoman doesn't kill. Killing is never the solution."

"Okay, I get it." They all paused before she pressed on, "Still, criminals are always trying to kill Batwoman. Are you telling me you've never once considered a gun? Just to even to odds. It's a no-brainer."

Brooke turned away, subconsciously looking to her father as a reminder and her mother for assurance, the picture staring back as always, "I don't let myself think about it. Once I go down that path..."

"Murder isn't justice. Taking that step, being judge, jury, and executioner - no one should act as all three." Alfred said quietly, mirroring something he'd said once before.

"I know it'd be the easiest thing in the world." Brooke whispered.

"But easy doesn't make it right." Tiffany said knowingly.

"It would violate my code." Brooke told her.

"So Batwoman has a code?" Tiffany moved a little closer.

"Without it I would become the very thing I fight. I can't become what I'm trying to stop."

Alfred cleared his throat, "Brooke's mother was a great advocate of justice and mercy. Not many remember that about her now. She began over half the charity organizations in Gotham and not because she felt it would elevate her in the people's eyes. There was a Psalm she often quoted, ' _Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.'_ She emphasized mercy, believed in rehabilitation... actually, she believed she could still save Thomas but she also tried, quietly, to protect the people from him. One never knows, I suppose, she might have succeeded one day."

The mere mention of her mother and father had her skin crawling all over again like an allergic reaction. Brooke loathed it when anyone, even Alfred brought either one of them up in general conversation but he mention both at the same time. She hated those kinds of reminders. She did not want to remember what she came from. There was too much evil in her past, in her blood, even if her mother tried to combat it.

While she understood her mother, understood what drove her, she was unsure silence had been the correct choice. Her father deserved to be expose, brought down. Mercy could have come after that. Saving him could have been seen to when he could not hurt anyone else.

A small voice, a traitorous voice had the nerve to ask how she would have viewed it if it had been John. What was worse was knowing she had no answer. The Bat's purpose was to bring justice. Justice was what mattered. Mercy played a key part in honest justice but it could not rule entirely. There was a balance. There were consequences for actions. She hoped she would have been stronger than her mother if things had been different.

Yet anther part of her mind joined the internal agreement. Mercy was a choice, she knew that, and it was also a difficult choice. So was it weakness at all? Wasn't mercy stronger than justice alone? Justice removed from mercy was cold and it wasn't truly just at all, it was vengeance.

Ah, but was she not already hiding John from charges? That was different though, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry." Tiffany folded in on herself, "Listen, I should have thought it through more. I just got so caught up in the design, I didn't- I have a lot to learn."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. We all have much to learn and we all make mistakes. We get up after them and keep trying. We all learn success but even more from our mistakes as well as the mistakes of others."

Brooke found herself giving in to the impulse to flee, "I have to go, John is waiting in the car. We need to find Harley."

"We'll be waiting right here." Alfred assured her.

He was never anything but kind and good. She owed him the world. It was hardly his fault she could not handle hearing her family brought up. Still, she did have to leave. It was not entirely fleeing the situation. There was practicality there as well.

"Please, be vary careful, Alfred. I want you to rest, drink your tea, and do nothing else. I need you well again, alright?" Brooke search his wrinkled face like it held all the answers. She once believed he could fix anything and do anything. She grew up, yet sometimes she still believed he was invincible. It was a foolish belief held by children and she learned how false it was when she watched her parents die. That should have taught her never to see anyone as invincible and she always thought she learned. If she learned though, why did seeing his weakness frighten her so greatly? Why had she been so confident in his steadiness in the past? Why had she never questioned his ability to handle anything?

"You needn't worry about me. I'll be quite well in no time." He smiled but it simply looked tired.

"I mean it, Al." She looked at Tiffany, "I know he's a difficult case, but see what you can do, huh?"

"I'll hold him down if I need to." Tiffany smiled but it seemed almost as tired as Alfred's.

"We'll talk more soon, I promise." Brooke had been too harsh with her, shot down her ideas too forcefully. She could not leave it that way.

"Sure, Brooke. When you catch her there will be plenty of time for that." Tiffany agreed, but she was much more reserved now.

"Thank you for all your help, Tiffany. I hope you know I appreciate it." Brooke attempted to ease the situation.

"We both appreciate you very much." Alfred agreed, "It's really quite the relief to have you around."

The smile Tiffany offered was a little brighter.

When Brooke walked out the front door she found John leaning up against the car, avidly studying the house. He grinned when he saw her and jumped into the passenger side. She was fairly sure she heard him mutter; "I call shotgun in the cool car!" Not that he had any competition for it. He was like a big kid.

* * *

Brooke stuck to her word; she drove him where he asked, pretended to be engrossed in her phone. Truthfully she was a bit lost in thought. She did not spend all her time taking account of the surroundings from the corner of her eye. Brooke was distracted by multiple things, not least of them her conversation in the den.

Alfred was sick, Tiffany was making a suit already, and designing guns! It was nice that she was taking an active part in her new place with them but... something about her designing not only a suit but a gun this fast? Or, well, it was the gun that bothered her on a very deep level, stirred up something intensely uneasy that she could not quite get a handle on. Other people around her, even on her side, used guns, she should not have this feeling of dread, but she did. It was probably nothing, but it was nagging at her, and to top it off she still had no idea where the virus was. She almost did not care about the nano scans anymore even though they were rather informative. Her mind was a whirlwind of turmoil but she had to put it aside if she was ever going to do her job. Her foot might have been a little heavy on the gas whenever they were driving but she decided she could not be blamed for that tiny infringement. Stress would do that to a driver and she had her share.

Alfred cared for her after the death of her family, she would not have survived without him. Through clawing and scratching her way through, she managed to maintain that power base, cunning even at her young age, but mostly thanks to Alfred's tenacity. She battled the corrupt, backstabbing work of the rich, but he was the bodyguard at her side. She navigated the politics and swam in dark waters, avoiding the pitfalls and trusting no one but Alfred to be her guide. Alfred was her strong and powerful protector through everything and he never left her side.

Alfred still stayed with her, tending to her needs and supporting her every aspiration. His approval of her clandestine activities was less than glowing but he supported her all the same, offering her his total confidence and help. She could not have made it without him. It killed something inside her to think she had put him into this state. He needed a doctor, a team of doctors. Too bad she did not have time to do what she needed to for him. Moments like this made her hate the city with its ill timing and the constant barrage of troubles. At least Tiffany was there, already a support, though Brooke had been of no help to her when she needed it either. She always let down the people she loved.

When the door opened again she jerked herself into a proper sitting position, removing her forehead from where it had somehow drifted to rest on the steering wheel. "Where to now?"

His eyes were narrowed, fully focused on her, "If you're not up to this, I can search alone, let you know what I find."

"I'm fine." Brooke answered swiftly.

She would be fine. What she need was focus. John told her to drive him to the old Bonus Bros Carnival, so she had. It was a creepy, dilapidated old place. They parked by the Ferris wheel that looked like a strong wind would topple it. The broken buckets swung idly in the breeze and creaked like dying birds. John had been intent on doing a perimeter search, he told her before he raced off.

John looked unconvinced but he motioned to the fun-house in the background, "She's in there, I'm sure of it, but probably not for long."

Brooke took another look around, taking particular notice of the misuse of the park, "How did you find this place?"

"Harley's been hiding stuff here for a while. I don't know how she found it." John sighed, toying with the spoon in his empty bowl, "Are you sure this is a good idea? Neither of us is... at our best."

Truthfully, she thought he might be right but there was no option for resignation from the task, "If we don't stop her either she will kill a lot of people or she'll be gunned down. It's in the best interest of everyone if we stop this before it gets worse."

John turned his head to look out the window, "I understand."

Sensing his need for a little comfort, she reached out and slipped her fingers between his, "It's... doing the right thing, doing what needs to be done isn't always pleasant but it doesn't change the necessity for it. It doesn't change the outcome. If you can stop bad things from happening by doing unpleasant things, you've still stopped worse things from happening."

He turned his face back to her, frowning, but his fingers flexed around hers, "Always full of wisdom, aren't you?" He leaned over and rested his head on her shoulder, "But what if we try our hardest and things still go all wrong?"

"Then at least we tried. If you try and fail, you may still have done some good you don't realize you did. If you saved even one life, prevented one bad things from happening, it's still a hundred lives you've touched. Each person is connected to another, and another. The loss of a life doesn't simply touch one person, the affects travel down the line like a web." She sighed and closed her eyes against the pounding in her temples, "Tiffany's father, for example. He was only one man, but he was a father, a husband, a friend. His loss changed everyone he knew... and in turn, they will change everyone they know. Things like this, murder, chaos, crime, it always comes with a high cost. Perhaps the one committing the crime doesn't have to pay the debt, but everyone else does."

"What about the guy that killed your parents? That changed you. But what would you have been like if he hadn't killed them? Would you still be who you are now?"

That sent a horrible feeling running through her, "I can't answer that because that future was altered. What I would have been was erased. I might have been very similar but I might be different. It depends entirely on how that future would have developed. But it couldn't develop because they were killed. Do you see what I'm getting at? If Harley sets that virus on the city it will change thousands of futures."

"I see what you're saying. Cause and effect," he sat up again, "So, I guess we go stop her!"

John jumped out of the car like a bolt of lightning but he didn't run off without her, he waited for her to join him. They walked toward the park entrance and John lingered very close, his arm brushing against hers all the way. He did not seem fully assured by their talk but he did seem more or less determined if not driven. It was hard to tell what he had really gotten out of her attempt at a pep talk though. When it was a crowd of rich potential donors she always knew what to say, how to draw on their heartstrings and pull in the support. Things like this? She floundered horribly.

John lowered his voice, motioning to the door, "We better move before she catches on that she's not alone. We'll have to split up to find her."

Brooke frowned instantly, "I don't think that's a good idea, John. It's more dangerous to confront her if we're alone."

"It's big enough in there we don't have much choice. We'll never find her if we stay together." He continued when she opened her mouth to protest further, "We'll just text the second we get a hint she's around. Noise, a visual, anything. We won't move on her till we're together, okay?"

Brooke sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, "Fine, but be careful! Don't take any risks!"

He reached out and tugged playfully on her ponytail, "Anything you say, Mom." John simpered at her.

Brooke made a face, "Never call me that!"

John slapped his hand over his mouth to smother a loud cackle just before he raced off in another direction. Brooke eyed the structure and plunged ahead into the decidedly creepy building. It should have been torn down after so many years. She would need to find out who owned it and have something done with it. The last thing they needed was places like this in Gotham. Harley could not be the only one that found it a good hiding place.

The inside was more than odd and it was rather clear Harley and John spent quite a lot of time in the place. That or they learned their decorating skills from the carnival which was equally likely. The place was eerie and had entirely too little real light, not to mention things falling at her. She never had cared for fun-houses. They did not frighten her but when she was looking for someone like Harley it seemed highly detrimental as far as locations. This was Harley's world, most likely a good look into her spiraling psyche and that was less than comforting.

It turned out she was right. She'd been conditioned not to respond to sudden movement even in her short time inside so it was a sickening shock when the mannequin springing out was not quite so lifeless. Truthfully, she expected it might happen. All those traps triggering sound when she walked past them might as well have been a glowing noisy sign pointing to her entry.

"If it ain't the little traitor?" Harley cooed seductively.

Brooke stared down the barrel of the gun at Harley's harsh grin, "Hello, Harley."

"I gotta say, I'm surprised to see you here! After what you did," the smoothness in her voice turned to acid, "you should have been hiding far away from me."

"I came to help you." Brooke told her evenly.

"Help me? Coulda fooled me! Oh, wait, you already did that." Harley barked, then tossed her head back in a cackle, "How you gonna help me now? Planning to play hostage for me?"

"Harley, listen to me-"

"No! I'm not listening to you anymore!" Her voice turned into a sing-song tone, "Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice! Shame on me!"

"I don't want to see you get hurt." Brooke tried again.

"Hah! Funny!" her voice transitioned into something dark again, "I want the exact opposite with you."

Harley swung her sledgehammer one handed, still aiming the gun with her other. Brooke ducked back as the hammer sank into the wood of the wall where she had been. It only made Harley laugh when she pulled it out of the wall to swing it again and again. For whatever reason she was opting not to use the gun. She slid it into her jacket at some point to enable her to freely swing the hammer at her target. Her eyes were manic and wild, a call of rage on her lips for more than one miss.

"John's here with you, right?" Harley asked conversationally as she pulled the anvil from the wall again. "You sweet talked him into helping you, like always."

Brooke held her defensive stance, ready to move in any direction, "John doesn't want to see you hurt, and you will be if this keeps up. You can't really expect this to end well for you. Your best chance is-"

"Oh, please! What would you know about my chances? What do you even know about his?"

"As I said, I want to help if you'll let me!"

"I don't need your kind of help and neither does John! I know what I need and it doesn't include you or your bleeding heart!" The hammer swung out again, slicing the air with a whistle.

Brooke bobbed to the side and lifted her hands in a placating motion, "I know you don't believe me right now, but what you're doing is not the way."

"What do you know about anything? You in your ivory tower? The world must look so simple to you, so clear, so black and white." Harley hissed, throwing a near by mannequin arm at her.

Brooke decided to keep trying, "John loves you, Harley. He doesn't want to see anything bad happen to you, and it will if you don't stop this and come with me. I can protect you."

"Protect me?" Her features softened into the more familiar flirtation but her eyes were no less sharp or cutting, "I bet you convinced him of all that. Talked real sweet to him. Spinning your pretty words into something he wanted to hear but we both know you don't have anyone's interest in this but yours."

"That's not true, Harley," she soothed, "I'm worried about you too. I know things ended badly but I'm still-"

"You turned him against me!" Harley blurted out, "You twisted him all up like he was one of your little rich boy toys. He's not though, is he? Like all your other toys? He's special."

"No-"

"I bet you think I didn't know, but I did. I'm not blind. I can see the way you look at him, lover. I liked you though, you know? So I was willing to forget it."

"I like you too, Harley. There is no reason we can't still-"

"Oh, right! No reason but you stabbing me in the back after I trusted you!"

Brooke took a calming breath, trying to hold back her own growing irritation, "I'm sorry about that but you didn't leave me any other choice."

"You know, John's the only reason I haven't put a bullet in your brain yet. I want him to see what you are before I kill you. He's got feelings for you too. He'd hate me if I killed you now, before he understood things. But you're the enemy, if he can see you're nothing but lies!"

"No one has to die. If we work this out, get you the help you need, things can be better for all of us. You don't have to fight this alone."

"So you can lock me up for my own good?" The other woman cocked a hip and rested her fist there, "I suppose you think you're what's best for him?" Harley challenged and shook her head, "You do, don't you?"

Brooke opted not to answer since none of the responses coming to mind would help the situation.

Harley cocked her head like a hawk, "What are you gonna do? Domesticate him? He ain't a dog! He's a wolf deep inside! You can't take that outta him! You can't tell me you don't see it too! It's in his blood! He's gotta let it out or it'll destroy him one day!" She pointed the hammer at Brooke, "You're what's bad for him! You're try to keep him caged, I'm trying to get him to let go, be free like he should be!"

"Maybe he has darkness in him. Everyone does. But he's got a lot of good there too. He's no monster."

Harley offered a glare that could curdle milk, "A monster like me, right? Well, that's where you're wrong! John could be ten times what your father was if he let himself. He could be brilliant! He's an artist trapped in a white world!"

"Is he trapped, Harley? Or are you? Are you projecting your ideals onto him because that's what you want to see?"

"Don't try that on me! Remember, that's my area! I have the degree."

"If you love John, and I believe you do, you'll let him be who he is, not try to force him to change." Brooke took one step forward, subtly easing closer.

"I should kill you right-"

They both stopped cold at the sound of a gunshot breaking the surrounding stillness; It was followed by two more loud pops coming from somewhere else in the fun-house.

"John!" Brooke squeaked in a sudden burst of terror filling her chest.

It only took one look for a standoff, a truce to form. They could guess who found them. They knew John was considered a criminal. They knew he wasn't armed. If there was shooting it wasn't John.

A strange moment of solidarity connected, "Go save him, I'll wait." That was a lie, she knew it was, but she also knew she wouldn't be shot in the back if she ran.

"Before they kill him!" Harley snapped.

She was sprinting before she'd made up her mind what to do. It was the wrong choice. She knew it. But when anther shot went off she couldn't draw the will to care. She was like her mother. She shouldn't do it. But she couldn't leave him.

She should have subdued Harley instead of trying to talk her down, she just expected to have more time. She always made the wrong choice lately.

Harley didn't shoot her. They might be enemies but they shared a common thread. John. They both wanted him to live. Love made people fools. Love was madness. No doubt she would pay the price for her foolishness, for her insanity. What was worse, what she doubted she would forgive herself for was the price others might pay. Still she ran in the same direction.

* * *

Estimated chapters are 12. It keeps going up! This was going to be short when I started it, what did I even do?

I have so many headcannons about Martha Wayne! So many! Thomas too. I like to think Thomas and Martha were opposites, light and dark. I like the idea that Brooke learned her more vicious aspects from him, but her heart comes from her mother. I like to think Brooke is a loooooot like her mom (particularly in her dedication to deranged men). I think Martha battled Thomas in a more passive way instead of putting on a batsuit, but she did fight him. She fought him with society, with organizations she began, with political barriers, with reputation. Once she found out what he did she was tireless in her organizations. This is my headcannon, you don't have to accept it.

And I know, you probably don't like what I'm doing with Harley, but I love her too. She's mentally ill and desperate. She's not a good guy, I'm not saying she is. But Brooke would try to save her if she could. And I think those two really did have a relationship. Harley liked Brooke as much as she likes anyone.


	9. Bridge

**Telltale Bats**

Come see me on Tumblr for all my strange stuff on this story! You can talk to me also. (I sometimes get very bored at work and desperately need something to help distract me from my suffering, so really, please talk to me if you want to) I'm still working on aesthetics and art, which I post when I finish it (I'm slow). If you have questions, requests, AU ideas, pretty much anything, I'm always ready to talk fandom stuff (if I'm slow answering it means work got busy but when it's back to being boring, I'll answer)

* * *

Brooke barely noticed the falling mannequins and the horrible screaming sounds, almost didn't notice the splatters of painted words depicting a spiraling descent into madness but she had trained herself to notice as much as possible regardless of the situation. It was disturbing and she hated how easily she recognized so much of the redecorating touches done to an already deranged building. She could not decide if half the noise she heard was part of the ambiance or if it was real, either way, she hated that too and the funhouse was due for demolition.

When she rounded another corner there was a gun in her face for the second time that night. A blonde man with wild, wide, angry eyes and an agency earpiece was behind it. She hated guns. She jerked to the side to avoid the bullet she knew was coming when she saw his fingers flex. Considering they had to know Harley was in the building, being shot at was not entirely unexpected but the ringing in her ears was unappreciated. She dropped down, ready to swing her legs out and sweep his feet out from under him, but she never quite got the chance.

There was a loud, sickeningly wet crack before the man dropped like a marionette with cut strings, head lolling awkwardly when he fell. John stood behind him with what looked like a bloody lamp post. There was red dripping off the corner of the lamp and John was slattered in dark red that turned his green shirt and vest an ugly brown. It only took a glance to see bodies behind him. The floor fell out from under her feet for a moment and the world was spinning like a carnival ride.

"John..." was all she could get out of her closed throat.

There was something in John's eyes, something even more wild, more manic, more unhinged than she had ever seen. His upper lip was curled into an animal snarl. It made a part of her try to cringe back from the darkness of it. Hearing his name called seemed to lift that deranged glint like a curtain being pulled aside and he dropped the post with a horribly loud clatter.

"B-Brooke..." His eyes danced frantically around the room and over her so fast she could hardly follow them, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Are you bleeding?"

She did not mean to snap but it came out that way, "Fine. I'm fine, he missed."

He shrank slightly, clasping his hands the way he had a habit of doing, "Brooke... I'm so glad you're here." It sounded like both a lie and the truth; perhaps dread at seeing her but needing her to be there.

She could not stop herself from kneeling beside the fallen agent to check for signs of life. She also could not stop the cringe when she found none, "You killed him."

"He was going to shoot you!" John's defensive shout was more pitiful than it should have been and he withered just as fast as he bristled.

"You didn't have to kill him!"

She had not expected to arrive in this. She expected to arrive at a fight, yes, to John being in danger, yes. She expected to run in and break up a battle, to bash a few skulls and save him. She never anticipated it would already be over when she got there, or that John managed to beat the odds in a rather literal way. She never expected to stumble upon John in a room surrounded by bodies. There was something so wrong about that.

"I'm sorry... I... wasn't thinking... I just reacted." He stammered, wringing his hand. "I couldn't let him hurt you... I-I could never let anyone hurt you. I just, I just, just couldn't!"

She hated death, no matter who it was that died. She hated the stench of spilling iron red blood and swiftly approaching decay. She hated the way the human body looked after all life fled from them. She hated death even before her parents died, hated it the first time she found a stray kitten and tried to nurse it back to health only to fail. The longer she lived the more she hated death and the waste of life. Perhaps it was the inevitable side of life but it never felt natural.

"Don't - Don't be angry with me, Brooke. Please - just hear me out." He sounded like a kicked puppy. "Please, just... it - it's not what it looks like. I can explain."

Brooke rubbed at her temples, trying to gather herself, trying to stay calm, trying not to snap at him. Part of her mind was already picking him apart even when she tried to push it aside. What did he think it looked like? What was he so worried about? He did not need her to voice those questions. They were both having a very bad night, more than one, more like a bad year, bad lifetime.

"I know." She tried to gentle her voice and it came out wearier rather than softer, "Are you hurt?"

Actually, she was tired; physically and emotionally. She couldn't think of the last time she slept and things just kept piling up and up to bring disorder into her carefully maintained calm. Maybe she was as much of a mess as John by this point, she just hid it better. Her head pulsed with pain as if to confirm the inner doubt of her own stability. There would be time to deal with it later.

John almost twitched, looking at her with those wide, puppy eyes, "N-No, I'm fine."

In a fight like this, he should be hurt, even if it was minor, "Are you sure?"

He nodded again, flexing his fingers and shuffling his feet. With as much blood as he was covered in, he could have cuts and bruises she would not be able to make out. Then, perhaps none of the blood was his.

She reached out, gently touching his chest, carefully avoiding the blood. His heart hammered against her fingers like a trapped animal seeking escape. He did not pull away, which was a good sign. His green eyes were a storm, frightened and skittish, but dark and swirling like the eye of a storm.

"What happened?" She settled on next.

John swallowed and turned to look over the room, moving away from her, "The agents - they came looking for Harley... They just showed up! Uninvited! _Rudely_ tried to kill me! They're not supposed to just start shooting, Brooke. They're supposed to say 'hands up'. I've seen it on the TV."

She wasn't entirely shocked, more disappointed she judged them correctly, or more precisely, Waller. "They just attacked you?"

"I tried to talk sense into them, but they wouldn't listen - they just wanted blood."

Another case of a Waller cover-up, no doubt. If something was in the way, dispose of it swiftly, people included. It seemed to be the running policy.

She looked back at John as he wrung the neck of an invisible foe, a sinister grin on his face, "Something took hold of me. Something dark, and vicious, and desperate for survival. I grabbed the nearest thing and started swinging." He swung his arms as a demonstration she could have done without.

She wished he had not told her that because she really disliked hearing it, but the laughter, dark and crazed was almost worse, "It's not funny, John. This is serious."

"No, no, I know." He smothered his laughter, shoulders trembling with effort to hold himself together. "I'm sorry. I... I always laugh when I'm nervous."

Part of her wondered if it didn't also substitute for tears. John was a highly emotional being but she couldn't imagine it went well for people that cried in an asylum. People developed a lot of coping mechanisms. She would save their analysis for later when she had time to mull it over.

Brooke spotted a rather large switch that would, she assumed, trigger the lights. She had no exact desire to see the damage any better but she knew she needed to. Sometimes sitting in the dark was not the best option. It would be easier to judge John's responses with the light on as well. The scene might be a little clearer too since she did not have her cowl or gloves for assistance and analysis. Not that she should be thinking of using them in this case anyway, or should she?

She heard the shots, one of the agents did nearly shoot her. John was trying to protect her and before that, himself. He was not trained the way she was. He only knew how the fight to kill thanks to the Pact. Harley and Bane probably taught him most of what he knew so it was little wonder he'd been swinging a prop around.

He jumped when the spotlight hit him. The sound of the lights mechanisms flipping echoing around the room. He seemed to shrink under the harsh light but it shifted into the manic smile as he turned in a small circle to survey the normally macabre room. The walls were spattered in blood. It looked like a grease-painted kitchen in an old diner Gothams kept in the poorer parts of the city.

"Wow. I completely redecorated, didn't I? I wonder what Harley would think of the new color scheme?" She was not fond of the look in his eyes even if he smothered his laughter with a cough.

Still, she could not help mentally examining the scene, finding what she could without being overt. She crouched beside a body that caught her attention. The bullet wound struck her instantly as out of place, an element of difference in his story, "You said you hit them with something?"

"I think so? I just grabbed whatever came to hand." He rubbed the back of his head in one of his many tells of nervousness, though many men shared that tell.

"This woman has a gunshot wound." Brooke pointed out, struggling to keep her voice calm and her mind clear.

"Uh, really?" Brook's eyes fluttered closed, wanting the explanation to be plausible for an entrance wound in the back, "Oh yeah... it's coming back to me now. She was going for her partner's gun," he made a gun out of his pointer fingers and she wished he wouldn't, "I - I just went on autopilot. I didn't stop until I was safe."

She stood slowly, feeling a wave of exhaustion, like keeping up the current conversation was a bit too much to mentally handle, "Okay, sounds - sounds like you did what you had to do."

"Exactly! It was a real life or death moment. I just sort of closed my eyes and hoped for the best." Now that sounded like him, "I felt so much rage inside me. Brooke, it was terrifying. It was like - it was like I became someone else. Someone... dangerous. But someone you want around when your back's against the wall."

She remembered suddenly what he'd told her at the cafe and her throat threatened to close. 'An animal in a cage.'

Her temples flared with pain when her blood pressure rose, "Well, I hope you're okay now. You think you're back to your normal self?"

"'Normal.'" His eyes widened and seemed suddenly miles away as his voice shifted into something she normally hears when she arrives at a customer service desk; sickly pleasant and unnaturally mechanical, practiced, and programmed, "Yes, I feel much better, thank you." Brooke instantly dislikes that voice she would bet he used on many, many occasions in Arkham to lie to an orderly. It was like saying the word 'normal' triggered something.

He did not even look quite like himself. Was that how she looked when all her mental walls slammed shut?

When he looked at her again she watched it fade back, peeling away in layers, "You don't have to worry about a thing. It was a momentary episode. A flash in the pan. It won't be a problem, I promise."

She wanted to believe that but was harder when there were bodies scattered around the room.

"John..."

"It's fine," he assured her again with rising desperation, "I'll be good, I'll behave! I shouldn't have done it, I know you don't like it, but I had to! They were going to kill me and I panicked but it won't happen again. I'm not...crazy, I'm just," he let out that dark, unsettled chuckle, "a little unwell."

Brooke swallowed, feeling unbalanced and unsure herself, "John..."

"Y-You believe me, don't you?" He sounded like he was trying to be confident but was on unsure footing.

Brooke was a little wrong-footed herself, could not decide what to think or feel. He was not exactly acting like himself but she supposed a confrontation like he'd just been in would do that. He'd faced violence before but he'd never played an honestly active part before. That could change a person, but she desperately did not want to think about that. She did not want to think about John changing.

"Of course I believe you." There was a little desperation in her own voice now because maybe she needed the verbal assurance as much as he did.

John exhaled a shaky breath, "Oh good. Thank you, Brooke. Thank you, thank you." He lunged forward and she was surprised her usual reflexes did not bring her into a full, instinctive retreat. Those long, pale fingers of his threaded into her hair when he cupped her head in his hands, eyes too intent, pupils too wide for a moment before they shivered and shrank mostly back to normal size.

When he leaned in, long nose brushing a path down her cheek, he pressed a lingering kiss behind her ear and then to the joint of her jaw like it was a vow only he understood. It made her shiver and coil her fingers over his wrists, though if she intended to push his away or hold him there, she had no idea. Knowing her own mind it was probably a precaution for either option.

"Brooke..." John whispered right into her ear; she waited for more but nothing came so she felt compelled to offer something.

"If there was more... if there was anything else you needed to tell me though... you know you can, right? You can tell me anything." She said quietly.

John pulled back, his pupils shrinking to the size of a pin as a slow smile crept onto his lips. "Right." The softness of the moment seemed to fade the longer he looked at her, "I wasn't sure - I was afraid..."

"Of what?"

"I wasn't sure I could... count on you. Not after the raid. I backed you at every turn, tried to help you see you could trust me."

"I did trust you."

His smile turned a touch bitter, "Not really. You've never really believed in me, trusted me. You've held me at a distance, kept my in the dark, since day one. It's been hard, knowing you haven't been straight with me, Brooke. Keeping your secrets. When we're supposed to have all this trust between us. Dr. Leland says trust is the basis of any healthy relationship."

It was then that her hands decided what to do, and she pushed his hands away from their resting place on her head, "Straight with you? You're telling me you don't keep secrets from me?"

"Oh, Brooke. There are secrets, and there are _secrets_." His grin widened and his head tilted like a hawk, eyes widening into something manic and frightening the more he talked, "Yours is definitely a _secret_. You forget I know you. The _real_ you. Always hiding behind some kind of mask. Party girl, businesswoman, criminal. _Bat_."

He looked terrifying suddenly. Dangerous, unpredictable.

"What?" She took a startled step back but he followed, an intense, almost insane smile stretched so wide over his face.

"Ooooooh! Dun-dun- _duuuuuuuunnn!_ " He sang, "You can't fool a friend. Someone who really takes the time to look. You are the Batwoman."

"Stop." It would have been a demand if it had been uttered at any sort of volume humans could actually here but ended up as more of an exhale of air.

He frowned slightly, but not enough to detract from the obvious pleasure he took in his own words, "You kinda gave it away with the laptop. Brooke wanting it. Then Bats wanting it. Then you stopped worrying about it once Bats had it, hardly even asked me about something you'd been so worried about before. Too much of a coincidence to ignore."

She took a step back from his intense scrutiny reflexively, feeling suddenly very sick, "That's ridiculous. I'm the furthest thing from Batwoman there is. I can't think how you came to such a wild conclusion." Her shoulders rose, probably not unlike the shell on a turtle, voice increasing in harshness.

"You don't have to keep your mask on anymore, Brooke." He jabbed a finger at his chest, grinning, "Not with me."

At her silence, he huffed a growl, rolling his eyes and swinging his chin up in frustration, "Oh! Are you going to make me trot out all the evidence?" His annoyance turned to a smile, "All right, how about the vanishing act you pulled at the cafe when the Batsignal showed up?" he was so animated, "You don't think I noticed how obvious that was?"

"That doesn't mean anything." She swallowed the terror biting her tongue and constricting her breath.

"No?" He arched a brow and shrugged. His grin turned that little bit sharp, the way he had that so often intimidated others and kept them wary of him. His abnormally wide smile appeared as it often did, that hint of creepy leaning to it she long ago became perfectly used to, "How about because, you said: 'I've already lost people close to me because of this case, I don't want it to happen again.'"

"What of it?" She snapped.

" _Case!_ " He emphasized with a dark look, "Who would call it a case but a cop? Or... say, a vigilante?"

Somehow, there were shivers running up her sides and down her arms, pebbled flesh following. He really paid much to close attention to what she said. The room was spinning around the edges of her vision and she forced herself into a breathing exercise to hold onto her control, to force away the panic.

"Still no?" He cocked his head again to look into her face better, " How about you punching a hole in the wall at your office. Better yet? What about," and suddenly his voice was a relatively convincing version of Alfred, "'Batwoman doesn't use guns, Tiffany.'"

"Oh-" Brooke gasped, reeling back like he physically slapped her.

No! He heard that conversation? No! She should have checked, walked him out the door, locked him in the car before she ever uttered a word! She was so used to her home being a safe zone she forgot at times. Constant vigilance! She was usually so careful, hyper-aware of any and all potential dangers! Yet she dropped them all any time John was around as if he didn't fall into any of her typical warning categories even though he was _in love_ with the former leader of the Pact! _What was wrong with her?_ When had she decided to let her mind decay and rot? Probably around the first time she really looked into those puppy eyes. She was so blind, so stupid! Why could she not manage to hold herself together around him? Why did she let him do anything he pleased? Why did everyone she least wanted to learn about her always find out? Why did she bother with a mask anymore? Maybe she should go to the office in full regalia and conduct meeting that way to just get it over with!

John seemed sheepish then, "Couldn't help myself. I'm curious by nature."

She made a noise of disbelief and frustration that probably wasn't human.

Curious by nature? Curious by nature! That was all he had to say? If she did not have a code she might strangle him where he stood. Her heart was beating rapidly the way most things never got it pumping. Stressful meeting that rocketed the heart rate of most in business never even touched it. Being shot at hardly even registered. She dealt with stress every day, but this? Having the carpet jerked out from under her, the proverbial mask ripped from her cold dead fingers before she was dead or cold? At least she'd been behind that mask when Waller confronted her. It was easier to hide emotions from behind it, everything else was too naked.

"And what," Brooke turned to the side, unable to face him but defensive enough now that she couldn't turn her back on him, "You think you can use that against me, as blackmail?"

He raised his hands in surrender or assurance, she could not be sure which, "Oh! I would never!" But he dropped them again, moving closer, eyes so focused it hurt her, "We're two threads in the same stitch, remember? Bound together even under strain."

"Then what's your point?" Her defenses were running on high. "What do you want?"

"Well, aren't you jaded..." She stiffened when he eased in behind her, looping one arm around her waist and the other up over her sternum to hook his fingers onto her shoulder; the hold was exactly like a seatbelt, strangely like being braced against impact. "Who's gotten to you before me? Was it that Dent guy?" He rested his chin on his own fingers, totally surrounding her in an odd way.

Her sharp laugh was bitter and cutting, "If he'd figured me out all of Gotham would know."

John let it drop, instead, answering her question with a whispered purr right down her ear canal, "What I want," he poped the 't' in a hiss and made her shiver at the sensation, "Is us. Is trust. A chance. You and me, Batwoman. We can clean up this city together."

She felt her headache flair again, running a hard beat against the inside of her temples. She almost rested back against him, seeking the contact, the soothing feeling it tended to have with him but she stopped herself just in time.

He let her go, starting to pace, "After we raided the Agency's convoy, Harley stashed one of their trucks here. And now it's gone, which means she's getting out of town. Across the Gotham Bridge. Let me help you stop her!" Big, green, beseeching eyes locked on her and all his former confidence evaporated like smoke in the wind, "I know I messed up. I know you're angry with me. I know you don't like killing."

Brooke could not think of a thing in the world to say.

"I'm not asking for much, just a little faith." John was begging and she did not like that any better than the blood on his clothes, "You can trust me. I won't let you down."

How many times had trust gone very wrong for her in the past few years? How many times had she let herself believe only to be stabbed in her progressively weakening heart? How many more times would it take before her heart turned at cold as Victor's?

"I swear to you - this was self-defense. One more time... You do believe me, don't you? You still have faith in me, don't you? Your old buddy, John?" He sounded unsure, wavering.

It would probably be this time that would do in her heart if he became just one more broken promise, one more betrayal, one more person she believed in and lost. He could hurt her more than anyone before him since all these extra sticky emotions were involved.

Brooke desperately gathered herself, boxing the day up in a hundred little packages she could examine later and put aside for the present time. She had been thrown through too many loops for one night and she knew she had to be far more collected. There was too much ahead to let herself fall apart or panic over any particular element. Brooke did what she did best, she bottled it all up in a neat little row in her mind.

Pragmatically, even if she did not believe him at this point, he had her secret in the palm of his hand. She would be insane to push him away, to hurt him, give him reason to tell anyone.

John was unwell. Even if he killed those people intentionally, which seemed entirely unlikely when he was fully aware she was in the vicinity, he was still mentally unstable. A court of law would have to take that into account. His lack of weapon and improvised method of execution showed a lack of premeditation. If they had not attacked him first there was no reason he would not simply have run the way he did in that laboratory. John was more likely to flee than fight, he'd proved it many times, so why would this case be different? Why would he kill them when she was in the building and he knew who she was? A court of law would find reasonable doubt and he would likely go free.

How could she refuse to believe the man that saved her life? The man that apparently had been suspicious of her for some time and still decided to trust her? She owed him a return. And he also knew her secret. Just a little faith. She never was very good at that.

Brooke allowed a little of her tension to drop, "This is a mess. And we are gonna need to talk about it more. But... I believe you. I do trust you. You're my closest friend. I suppose I should have known all along I couldn't hide things from you. I... should have trusted you sooner, you've always been there for me when no one else was."

John's eyes widened, seeming overwhelmed for a minute when he stuck out his hand. By now she was so used to giving him her own hand she did not even think before she reached out in response.

"Brooke, I-I..." She got the feeling he bit off something he really wanted to say but rather than finish he suddenly jerked her into his arms, hanging on a hint too hard. Half of her recoiled from the instant realization of how much blood he was covered in and she jerked her chin quickly to the side, pressing her nose into his neck, hoping there was no blood there. The other half of her wanted to comfort him and rest with him until they could both forget any of the events ever happened and she tentatively put her arms awkwardly around him, gingerly touching him.

"I guess we all do keep secrets, don't we?" He whispered and turned his face into her hair, breathing out heat that traveled right down her neck. He held on just that much tighter and then it was painful on all her old and new injuries.

She could smell the blood, feel the stench of death seeping slowly into her clothes and skin.

"Let's get out of here, huh? Before anyone else shows up." Brooke offered.

John let go enthusiastically, "Agreed!"

She wanted out of the room!

* * *

Brooke was quiet on the drive to the bridge, she had no idea what she could say so she reverted to her most common setting. Silent. John, on the other hand, seemed set to make up for her lack of verbalization by describing random aspects of Arkham in far more depth than she ever cared to hear. John was as unnerved as she was, it was obvious. Any time he was particularly out of sorts, she noticed, he always brought up Arkham or Dr. Leland. If he needed support, explanation, security, his mind always turned to Arkham. John was also the most verbose when he was out of his depth or excited and she suspected he might be both at the moment. He was on a high from her pledged faith in him and the big reveal of his discovery. In his mind, this likely meant everything was in the open now, they were both free. If the secrets were out they did not need to hide. He was right to an extent. He was on a low too though because... well, it was best to leave the funhouse behind them. There were other things to focus on.

"Did you ever see Jervis Tetch?" John was still rambling in excess and she was only half listening, "He's in for stalking some girl named Alice, a former coworker. I guess he kidnapped her, drugged her fiance or something, and tried to take her to Wonderland. Everyone calls him the Mad Hatter." John cackled and she found herself chuckling with him at the honest absurdity.

"Only in Gotham." She muttered.

John leaned over in his seat, a silky, sly smirk still on his lips, "Have you ever had a stalker?"

Brooke shrugged, taking a turn a little faster than she should have, "I'm always in the public eye. Being famous at all tends to come with a few of those. It's not always intense stuff, just certain people attaching to you, thinking they either attributed to your fame by buying a magazine so you owe them or they create this fiction in their minds where you are destined to be together because you both like the same color. Usually, they just write letters and try to crowd in at events wanting your attention but it can escalate in some cases."

"Has it ever escalated?"

"A couple times. But I've never had any trouble handling it." Brooke couldn't help smirking, "I'm Batwoman... so, you know. I'm better equipped, I suppose."

John leaned closer, resting his chin on her shoulder and taking a deep breath through his nose like he was smelling her, "I bet they'd kill to be me. I'm living their dream. I actually got my chance to be friends with you, to know you, to be close to you. A nobody like me."

"You're not nobody, John. You're brilliant, and you're going to be amazing in my tech department. I have no doubt you'll be the best in any field, probably make quite a name for yourself. Of course, I'll make sure you're in a very long contract with me so you can't run away to some other, more alluring company." She teased, leaning her temple against his forehead for a moment.

"I would never leave you," John stated confidently.

Brooke hummed, making another sharp turn that dislodged John entirely, sliding him back to his side with a surprise giggle.

"I'm still making you sign a contract, but good try." She smiled wide enough to show a little teeth.

He was making her forget her own disquiet, making her eyes selectively ignore the blood spattering his shirt and staining his hands. John was good at bringing out the humor in her, good at making her forget herself and her problems. She remembered soon enough when they neared the bridge. The lights from the squad cars splashed bright red and blue over the glass of the windshield, a blinding and painful branding of her retinas. It looked like a hostage situation, and indeed it was one. The blockade of vehicles was a smattering of all variations of armored assault vehicles and typical squad cars.

The GCPD and the Agency were running on high alert, guns brandished warily at anything that blinked too rapidly. Harley was pacing like she was ready to fall apart, the iridescent orange virus in one hand and what was undoubtedly an incendiary device in the other. There was a distinct lack of her usual confidence, now she was just desperate, frayed around the edges and ready to rip with enough added pressure.

Harley and Waller were shouting back and forth, hurling threats like it was going to get them their way, or it would help. Neither of them would ever be able to talk anyone down off a ledge, that was certain.

Upon seeing Harley, John was no less put together, "They're gonna kill her, Brooke! They're gonna shoot first and ask questions later." He sounded so broken for a man that wanted to bring Harley in, but then, she of all people could understand conflicting emotions, "I can't just stand here and do nothing! We can't let that happen."

"You're right, we can't. We'll keep her safe, John. You don't have to worry." She fervently hoped she could keep that promise because even if she loathed the sound of Harley's name on his tongue, that did not mean she wanted to see her gunned down.

"Hearing you say that really calms my nerves." He wiped shakily at his face with his sleeve.

Well, that made _one_ of them. At least John was feeling better.

It was with a quiver of doubt in her heart that she could hope to pull the situation back from the brink of total disaster, doubt that she could save Harley or her hostages, that she moved on the barricade. Her dilemma did not show on her face, her scowl sent more than one agent back a few steps, guns twitching with indecision. Avesta spotted her soon enough as she moved into the perimeter like a tiger plowing through the grass. They let her by, and John by extension, on Iman's word. Having friends was indeed helpful. Perhaps it had not been ideal for Avesta to know her secrets but it had indeed gained her a valuable insider to the world of political backstabbing.

Waller was in no better mood or frame of mind than Harley but at least she was reasonable, mostly. Or she listened, which was something Brooke had to count on when she ventured out into the open, feeling an awful lot like a pirate made to walk the plank, hungry sharks and unforgiving water waiting at the end of that think slab of wood. She wondered idly if that made Harley a shark.

Harley watched her approach with what seemed like humor but ended in a snarl, "Well, well, well, _Brooklyn_ _Wayne_. Knew I shoulda killed you when I had you before."

"Hello, Harley." Brooke keyed her voice to something soothing.

"We meet again, huh? You decided to come back for more? I always did take you for a risk taker I suppose but you're really pushing lady Luck tonight!"

"I told you, Harley, I don't want to see you hurt. I came to help you."

She had a shocker in her pocket. If she could get close enough, she could shock Harley and grab the virus and detonator from her. It worked in theory. Harley's muscles should lock from the shock just long enough for her not to let go of the button and not to drop the virus. Brooke had to be very close indeed for grabbing them away to work, and even then it was something of a gamble on her reflexive speed. It was a rather extensive risk but letting Harley go on and depending on her reason was a bigger risk still.

"Help me? That mean you're gonna get me what I want?" Harley swayed her way closer, agitated, angry, "I'm simple enough to please. I just want one tiny thing. All I want is Riddler's blood. I get it, I leave Gotham for good." It sounded like she meant that. Too bad it wouldn't ever go so smoothly. "That Agency hell- beast says she don't got it, but I know she's lying through her teeth. Her people took it with the trucks."

Harley's description of Waller was almost enough to make Brooke crack a smile, almost.

Harley curled her lip, "Thanks for that, by the way. Real smooth, you getting us to load up and do the work for you. You were sharper than I gave you credit for."

"There is more to both of us than meets the eye." Best to stay on the topic before Harley got too worked up over the betrayal issue, " But Waller's telling the truth. The blood is gone."

Harley seemed interested, focusing on her closely, "She tell you that?"

Technically, yes, but of course that wasn't everything, "I believe her." She need to get closer, get Harley's guard down. It was all in the timing.

"Well, you're a freakin' fool. Just when I was starting to think you were smart. She just wants it for herself." She looked like she would have come and patted Brooke's check had her hands not been full, which served to remind her of what she held, "I'm holding all the cards." Her attention turned sharply to the blockade, "Either they give me what I want, or I play the one that goes boom! I ain't foolin' around. I'll do it without a second thought."

This wasn't going extremely well. She was progressively less sure of her success.

"You wouldn't win that way any more than we would. Playing all your cards isn't much good, we both know that. It's good for intimidation but not as good in practice. You need another plan, another option."

"I guess you'd know a lot about strategy, being a big, bad, cutthroat business Wayne, right? I'd believe you if I didn't know you were soft. You won't risk my commitment to follow through."

"There is no reason this needs to end badly for anyone, Harley." Brooke struggled to maintain the upper hand in the conversation, "Listen, I have pull with these people. You turn yourself in. I can protect you."

Harley scoffed, "I don't need protection. Never have. Way I see it, _you_ need protection from _me_."

Behind the barricade, Waller gave the order to stand down once again and Brooke glanced back to see John moving in on them. He prowled forward, narrow hips swaying with his determined stride, his jaw set, and his eyes fixed. Clearly, John had enough standing in the wings.

Brooke pulled back to meet him.

He smiled slightly, reassuringly, "Brooke, you got her warmed up, but let me take it from here."

"What? No, we can work on her together." Brooke shook her head. They could double team.

Harley dropped her threatening stance with a sigh, "Ah, Puddin'..." She was probably relieved to see him for multiple reasons as well as disheartened.

Perhaps she wouldn't be so eager to blow the bridge with him on it. John waved to her pleasantly.

When he turned his eyes back to Brooke, he whispered, "Let me talk to her. I know her better than anyone."

That tightened Brooke's jaw a little.

Harley stepped closer, "I'm so glad you're here, baby. These deadbeats want my head on a stick."

And that tightened it a bit more but she pushed the sensation aside, there wasn't really a choice. Harley was right, she couldn't push her to test her dedication, she needed another option, "Listen, I've got a stunner in my pocket. If you can grab the virus, I can get the detonator after I've shocked her."

John made a face, "And you don't think that's risky? Even with both of us? Were you gonna try that solo?"

"I was going to try, yes... but if you help me, it might go better."

"Or I could talk her down." John said calmly.

"There is no talking her down, John."

"Not for you, maybe. You lost her trust. Me? I still got it. I can get her to end this, trust me! I know what to say to her."

"I don't think that's an option, she's too wound up."

"Like I said," John's smile was sly, "you can't, but I can. You know I always know what to say to make her believe me. Let me do this, let me fix this? Just trust me! I can do it. I want her taken in peacefully. I don't want her hurt."

Trust. He wanted her to trust him and take her hands off the situation? She didn't want to. "Alright, John. But if it looks for a second like she might not listen, wave me back in and we'll take her down together." Why was she letting him do this? This was such a bad idea.

"I won't let you down." His smile was so sweet and sincere it seemed somehow harder to send him off into danger, "I have everything worked out, up here." He tapped his temple.

He moved around her, shifting closer to Harley. She didn't want to let him go. She wanted to hold him there with both hands and never let him get close to a bomb or the woman holding the trigger, at least not alone. Her teeth were set on edge at the thought.

"Trust me. I learned from the best."

Brooke reached out impulsively, like her arms intended to carry out her wish, but she aborted the motion a little desperately, "Okay, just..."

Don't go.

John's smile turned to an exasperated frown, "Just what?"

"Try and reason with her. She thinks you're going to help her with this. She thinks she can manipulate the situation through you."

"I got this, Brooke. I'm just going to be myself." He looked so confident like he didn't realize what he was walking into. "Just like you told me in the cafe."

"Right, that's a good plan, John." She palmed a pick into his hand, "If you can, if you need to, jam that along side the button and if it's in tight it will hold the trigger until it can be dealt with." She might have seemed strained as much as she tried to hide it because he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry about a thing." He winked like a reassurance, "With all these people watching," he made a theatrics gesture with his hands as he backed away, "how can I not live up to the occasion?"

She wasn't worried about the occasion, she was worried about Harley's temper and a bomb, "Please be careful." She blurted out quickly.

John shot her a catty grin, still backing up, "Careful is my middle name."

She wanted to slip him into the Kevlar before sending him over along with the mask but that wasn't plausible.

"I'll be waiting for you when you come back over. " She whispered it like a vow, a benediction to keep him safe; like it would mean he'd come back to her if she spoke it; like it meant he couldn't be hurt; like it meant he wouldn't remember he was in love with Harley and change his mind.

Batwoman should have come instead of Brooke. What was she thinking, expecting to deal with this in her own face?

He walked away and she retreated back into Waller's zone to exert what control she could on that woman and her people. If she couldn't talk to Harley she could restrain the Agency hell-beast.

When she stepped back to the older woman's side her spine was stick straight and her expression was blank but her fingers were quivering.

Waller's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, "Those two reprobates getting their heads together is a recipe for disaster. What were you thinking?"

"John said it himself, he knows her better than anyone. Give him a chance. As long as he keeps her talking, there's still a chance she won't blow the bridge. Him being here is incentive enough for her not to do it. She loves him and it will be harder for her to make a move that could kill him too."

"There is truth in that. Not enough to inspire confidence, but it's better than nothing." Waller admitted.

Brooke turned her attention to John and Harley in their animated, though unknown conversation, "We have a backup plan if this doesn't work. Let us handle it."

"I'm supposed to take your word?" Waller tsked.

"Why don't we trust them to negotiate? They've spent a lot of time with her." Avesta put in diplomatic as ever in her tone. "They know what makes her tick. If we want a peaceful resolution without casualties, they are our best chance. We don't want civilians or officers killed tonight, and anything else we do, like shooting Harley, will end very badly. It's our most viable set of choices."

The director sighed irritably, " We'll see how it plays."

In the distance, Harley hugged John, or maybe just leaned into him to be sure nothing was overheard, maybe both. They were close. If she's given him the device he could have shocked her right then.

"I don't like the look of that. Not one bit." Waller sounded tired for a moment.

Brooke didn't care much for it either, though probably for slightly varied reasons. Particularly when Haley leaned into John, foot popping up happily like some old romantic sixties movie. Her heart dropped when Harley looked back at them with a triumphant smirk. For a second there was fear and a fast slice of doubt; a former psychiatrist could twist John around her finger. Brooke swallowed the thought. John wasn't a fool, he knew what he was doing.

Waller dropped her arms, "You gotta be kidding. This is going south." She lifted her walky talky, "We're gonna shut this down right now."

"No, you're not." Brooke snarled, ready to snap the woman's wrist right off.

Surprisingly, Avesta was quick with an argument, "If we interfere now, we could push him right back into Harley's arms."

"If we don't," Waller snapped, "everyone on this bridge will die. Stand by to move in people! Alfa team, move in to flank. Take your positions."

"Don't." Brooke shoved the walky talky away from Waller's face, trying not to actively snarl like a tiger or act on the impulse to strangle her; she couldn't choke her, she needed her to resend that order.

Waller rounded on her, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

She had no idea where she found the gentle, smoother tone but she knew where the sincerity was from, "You gotta trust him, Waller. I'm telling you, he'll come through. Rush them and you'll be responsible for the fallout. He'll come through."

"With a marriage proposal, maybe. Not a successful resolution to the crisis at hand." Waller was less than perfectly receptive.

She couldn't afford to be emotional, she knew that it would only make her seem compromised, and that would end her chance of being heard. It didn't stop her from stepping between the woman and John like that would somehow protect him or Harley, "He can do it. And if not, I'll go back in, and we'll take her with a new strategy. This is Gotham, I know a few things about the people here. Stand down."

She whirled around when Harley began to yell, "You back-stabbing piece of crap!"

Brooke watched, utterly stunned, as John took Harley to the ground with ease, holding a virus and deadman's switch at the same time. He looked so sad, sympathetic staring down at her.

"Don't struggle, Harley." John soothed as agents moved in swiftly, "They think you're a fighter, they're gonna put you in the hole."

Did he know that from Arkham, from experience? She didn't have time to dwell on that unpleasant thought as Harley was dragged to her feet, already secured.

Secured, but enraged, "I'm gonna rip your head off, you two-timing son of a-" Harley cut off in a growl.

It was over. The thought struck her like a wave of hot coffee down her throat on a cold night. John won, he did it.

Brooke was already hurrying to John, hardly paying attention to much else. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and never let go.

"Get her out of here," Waller ordered detachably.

Agents dragged her backward but Harley wasn't finished, "How could you, John? Ya broke my heart." Some other time, later, she would find it in herself to feel sorry for Harley, but this moment was too good to sour.

"Brooke showed me how to be good, Harley. In a way you never could." He didn't sound particularly happy but Brooke was happy enough for both of them.

She didn't normally do things like open acts of affection but when she reached him, she coiled her arms around his waist, resting her head between his sharp shoulder blades. There was so much relief flooding her entire being she felt lost in the moment. Closing her eyes, she squeezed him once. She didn't want to watch them take Harley away or look at her face but she was just so glad the other woman failed.

"You did it, John." She whispered reverently, "I knew you could do it. You were amazing." She didn't let herself get caught up in the moment often.

Her heart was so swollen with pride and relief she could hardly stand it. This man was incredible. He went against his heart and chose the right path. Maybe, by some extension, he chose her as well. It couldn't have been easy but he'd done it. The urge to kiss him struck her but she mentally batted it aside.

When John shifted she let him go, let him turn around, "Thanks!" He grinned, looking slightly haunted but also happy.

She looked into his big green eyes, thankful she had the chance to do so, "You were amazing." She repeated quietly.

Waller's voice was like a knife cutting the connection, "Thank you for your help, Mr. Doe." John's lip immediately began to curl, "You did a great job." It sounded less like praise and more like a platitude, "The virus, please."

Brooke stiffened, pressing her shoulder to John's, turning her eyes on the other woman.

John's voice was soft, calm, but sure and serious, "I don't think so. I don't think anyone should have this, least of all you. Brooke was right when she tried to destroy it at the lab. Harley shouldn't have it, no one should."

Brooke smiled slightly, proud of John for so many things. John was so much smarter than these people gave him credit for. He was also a good judge of people and he was also right. Nothing like a powerful virus should ever be placed so easily with Amanda Waller. It would be like returning it to Lotus.

"Good point, John." Brooke starred the head of the Agency right in the eye and slid the virus from John's palm to hold it up in the light, mildly surprised he just let her take it without knowing what she intended. "I think it's only right to let me finish what I started. After all, you did send a civilian into a terror organization in order to extract information. It's only fair said well-respected civilian be permitted to finish the assignment." She asserted all her boldness usually reserved for hostile takeovers, "I'm sure the GCPD can escort me to Wayne Tower. Agent Avesta can oversee it's safe, timely disposal. I have plenty of tech made for this kind of thing, and you know you can trust my recourses, you needn't worry." She took John's hand and pulled him in a path to lead him away from all of them.

"Well then... I hope you're prepared for the fallout, Ms. Wayne. If I let you walk away with a deadly virus, people are going to ask me why I deemed you trustworthy. You are the daughter of a mobster, after all. In which case, I'll be under obligation to enlighten them to the vast... resume you hold. All those secrets out on the late night news... and a bridge hostage situation is going to be secondary news." Waller was playing at casual but it was a blatant enough threat.

Brooke's spine snapped that much straighter, eyes narrowing to sharpened steel, "Don't threaten me."

"It's not a threat. You no longer serve a purpose in my investigation." Waller shrugged one shoulder, "As they say, you've outlived your usefulness."

Brooke sneered, "Oh, I doubt that. You're not one to let go once you've sunk your teeth in. Don't take me for a fool. You can't just-"

"You vastly overestimate your value in the grand scheme of things." Waller's smile was anything but pleasant. "If you become a liability, I have ways to discredit your every statement. If people learned about your secret, how long do you think you'll last on the street, Wayne or otherwise? Exposed, you're nothing but a sitting duck for this city considering how many enemies you've made."

"Director!" Avesta rushed in like a placating bulldog, "Brooke has done a lot for the Agency! She has more than earned her place with us in her time undercover. We wouldn't even have the Pact in custody, let alone have gained the location on Lotus without her help, or John's. They have both proven highly valuable."

John cocked his head, eyes narrowed to near slits. He ignored the progressing argument to make his own, "So you're the one that made her jaded. You Agency people, you're just the worst! You're supposed to stand for justice. But you're liars. And you're murderers. And you're so rude!"

"I don't think you have room to judge." Waller sounded more like a fifth grader.

"Since we're the ones that saved the day, we have plenty! You think you can threaten her? You and what army, you corrupt pigs?" John puffed up like an enraged cat.

Waller hissed, "A creature like you has no concept of what a higher level of thinking looks like. As you can see," she motioned to the crowd, "I have the law on my side. It's more army than I need."

"That's where you're wrong." John hissed back, "Right, Brooke?"

She couldn't really answer him, had no idea how. He wasn't precisely making things better though she could hardly spare the focus to comprehend his statement. There were other things she needed to worry about. John's fingers tightened on hers.

"We're leaving and you're not going to stop us." John and the Director sounded like they'd just immerged from high school.

"No one is walking away until I say so." Waller barked, stepping closer with several agents at her heels. "Hand it over!"

"Wrong!" John chimed pleasantly, "I think you've forgotten something in your eagerness." John's voice shifted suddenly you a growled purr, low and threatening.

Waller slid her eyes over both of them with waning interest, "What would that be?"

He grinned his most menacing, wide turn of the lips, "Perspective. Or just the press of a button."

The cloud of fire and smoke was almost a precursor to the sound and the ringing in her ears. Her headache spiked into stabs running in all angles through her brain, disorienting her. She stumbled and found a solid body when she reached out. She knew it was John without looking, recognizing the feel of his arms around her shoulders.

The virus was still in her hand, safe for the moment. She had no intention of letting it go for any reason but her body probably would have liked to. She hated explosives, they always had the tendency to leave her fuzzy for a minute, which she was not overly fond of even if she recovered faster than most people. The ringing was already grating her nerves.

Her mind and body were running on the defensive so it took very little to drive her to a fast response. She decked the first agent that stumbled from the smoke on reflex, kicking the second in the chest to put him down. It wasn't intensive work to knockout someone already disoriented but John cackled like it was the best thing he'd ever seen.

For her part, she was not overly amused. They still had to make it back to the car and through the thick of chaos if they wanted to end up anywhere but a cell with Harley.

"Come here, baby." John tugged her head first into the smoke, smartly using it for cover, but then he let go. The loss of him stunned her momentarily but she was at least gaining her sense back, the heaviness in her ears beginning to pop free. He let out a cackle too similar to the funhouse and she scrambled after the sound, only catching up to him after he'd thrown a woman to the ground and stolen a gas canister, which he promptly threw into the thick of the crowd.

"You and me, we're gonna hunt them down together." It was easier to hear him but John was rambling, "You're all going to pay for your crimes!"

"Where's Wayne? I want her secured!" Waller bellowed angrily.

There was fire and chaos all around them. Car alarms were shrill and the fires burned bright in the aftermath of the explosions. It looked like the slums on cold nights, only rather than drums, it was cars containing the hungry flames. An agent stumbled through the smoke, already lifting his gun the second he spotted them.

Brooke rushed him, aware of her own probable advantage on someone that had undoubtedly been closer to the blast than herself. One punch put him down and it seemed too simple. Part of her was already geared for a more real, tangible fight.

Waller stirred her rage and now she wanted to fight.

John turned her around, pulling her away from the thick of it, away from the fight over half of her craved. He seemed to have a plan, or she assumed he did. She would reserve judgement on his methods later; she'd never guessed he'd set off the explosives, she'd been planning to take care of the switch in the car, but he had set them off.

"Don't worry, no one's getting close to us, Brookie!" John leaned in close, a huge grin on his face. "It's going to be so much fun!"

He pulled her to the edge and she followed without protest, too stunned not to. She heard the pop of shots being fired and turned to find the source, instinct propelling her to shield John. John let out a noise of distress before his arms glued her to him with significant force. When he pulled her over the railing she had only a second to regret her lack of a cape before the ice stung her entire body, crashing a pressing her from all sides.

* * *

 _Note: This has just turned into something I never really planned to write but it's also turned into what I'd rather have seen in the game, which was like... a third option kinda thing. When I started the story this wasn't how I planned it but it's how it's developed. Hopefully you will like my third option ending as well as villain path and vigilante path after that. Pick your own ending is what I think I've ended up doing here with three choices._


	10. Chapter 10

**Telltale** **Bats**

 _Sorry for taking so long! I've been really sick for a long time. A lot of the pain stuff in the chapter is my venting my suffering, so hope it doesn't bother you. Enjoy!_

There was a sense of nothing. An absence. Brooke didn't feel anything at all. Like floating down a river, slack body dragged by the whim of the waves, traveling on something other than her own power, held by a force she didn't control. But then, she thought she did remember something about a river. It was a strange sensation to feel no pain or comfort. It felt like being drugged, which she never appreciated, particularly since it usually meant pain later.

The voice, desperate and cracking, was the only thing grounding her, making her put effort into finding the muscles that controlled her eyes. Eventually, she fluttered her eyes to half mast, enough to see John.

His hair was black, stringy, plastered to his head and hanging randomly into his face. His eyes were a storm, watery the way his voice cracked.

"Please, please, please, Brooke! Please, you gotta wake up!" He hovered over her, rocking on his knees like he couldn't hold still. He was half backlit with the light and half in shadow, making him look like two different people.

Her eyes faded back, sinking down into her skull, going black and disconnected right along with her consciousness. A black cold like her cave greeted her and she went inside it willingly, recognizing it for the release, the reprieve it was. When next she woke she knew it would be unpleasant but for now she was allowed to sink away from it for a little while. She knew a gift when it was given.

Gifts never lasted long enough, like happiness. It was swift and fleeing, a short-lived reprieve from the daily anguish and pressing needles of life. Cold, numb, but tingling with needles, thousands of needles. The moment she was conscious the shaking began, violent and uncontrolled, her teeth jarring viciously against each other enough that she bit her cheek and drew blood.

"Shhhh, shhhh, shhhhh!" John pressed his cheek to her forehead, holding her closer as he jostled her. "I've got you, shhhh!"

Her eyes rolled in an attempt to understand, her head and neck almost unresponsive to her desire to move, though her head was exploding. She saw the river, saw the rocks John was walking over along the bank, saw the lights glowing in the city. They were near the docks, she could smell it and it made her gag, but that hurt worse.

John peppered desperate kisses over her face, like he was afraid, "Shhhh, it's going to be fine. I'm going to get you out of here, I promise!"

It was unnerving how distant her ears perceived his voice considering how undeniably close she knew he was. That signified nothing particularly comforting about her current state of being. It might drive others with far less experience with stress than she into a panic but she was accustomed to her body rebelling over her ill-treatment of it. It allowed her to be a little more analytical and distant.

He didn't feel warm and her body was so cold. He felt as cold as she did.

It felt like marbles were rolling around in her chest with each breath, marbles rolling in thickened water. No doubt that was not the best sign.

She wasn't aware she was making sounds but she must have been, she thought she heard a whimper that didn't belong to John, so it must have been hers.

"It's okay," John whispered brokenly, "I won't let you go."

That was the moment she realized he was carrying her. It should have been obvious but she had neglected to notice before. With that understanding came to need to move on her own. No one carried her. She walked on her own feet on her own power.

A choked, garbled, gasped sound of pain escaped her throat when she tried to sit up. A fire burned through the cold in her chest and side. So hot, burning her alive even as the rest of her was icey. The pain flared in her brain like a live wire, bouncing electrical current through her nervous system until it was all she could feel. It felt like gaping holes in her body.

"No, no, no, please don't move!" John whispered fervently, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay..."

A gut-wrenching cough ripped through her, tearing her up inside, wet and sickening, thick, too thick. Her body shook and convulsed, curling in on herself even as John tried desperately to hold her and protect her as much as he could. The distinct metal taste in her mouth was telling, too telling. She swiped her tongue out, trying to catch any of droplets of red possibly dotting her lips to hide the potential evidence. No need to worry John more than he already was.

It could be a punctured lung.

Bullet wounds came to mind but she didn't know-

Oh, that's right. She did know. She remembered seeing guns, hearing shots. John was beside her and she hadn't even thought, hadn't even deliberated, only moved in front of him to shield him from the danger. It hadn't occurred to her to do differently. She was used to playing shield, used to being the protector. Other options held no space in her mind. Honestly, even mingled with the pain and the cold, she couldn't find even a drop of regret for that.

Somehow, knowing why she was in this pain helped to ease it. Knowing John was free of bullet holes untied knots inside her that loosened the tight ball of sheer agony. If anyone had to be shot in that bridge she was glad it had been her. Though if it had been Waller instead, she might have been gladder. They really should have taken her hostage but Brooke was not accustomed to such acts of self-preservation, she was more accustomed to saving hostages than needing to take one. It probably would have made things worse anyway, taking hostages. Things like that made you seem intrinsically guilty regardless of facts.

It did not change the throbbing heat centered around her wounds nor ease the feeling of irrational desperation to flee or thrash to escape the pain. Her mind wanted to claw at her own flesh, rip until the pain stopped while it simultaneously wanted to be wrapped up in blankets, cradled, and never touched again.

Moving had made breathing significantly more challenging. With each breath immerged the need thrumming in her chest cavity to cough but every fiber of her being desired to resist an act she knew would cause her further suffering atop that which already existed. It was harder to breathe now, heightened difficulty, more unpleasant.

Pain made people irrational.

She desperately needed something to focus on other than the sensations trapping her in her own mind of looping, pulsating, endless pain. Each beat of her heart, an involuntary and necessary act of the body to circulate blood was sending a fresh wave of pain with each beat. The faster it beats, the higher her stress, the more pain it would cause. She needed to focus her mind on anything else but she did not feel up to any sort of focus. Her entire world was centered on the agony and she lacked her usual confidence in her ability to center her own mind.

"Tell me where we are, John." She wheeze, strained sounding and thin as stretched glass. It was a struggle not to cough, nearly impossible. Talking added a new intensity and she knew she should endeavor not to overtax that function in her throat lest she find blood bubbling up again.

"Uh... we- we're on the shore. C-close to somewhere safe. Don't worry, I'm going to get you all fixed up, buddy! Just a little farther, a few minutes, tops!"

Brooke could hear the lie even if she couldn't focus on his face but hearing him talk was helping so much. "Where are we going?"

"Well," John swallowed reflexively, "I figure we can't go back to your place... and we can't exactly get to your car right now. So we can borrow the first car we find. There is this doctor I know of, fixes people up. Off the books, off the record, you know. For people that don't want to go to a hospital. Harley told me about him. I figured, since Waller will be looking for us, we'd need someone like that so she doesn't catch us. We can't stick our heads up, you know?"

John wasn't wrong. Waller would be looking for them, would have eyes in every hospital. She had secured control of the GCPD for the most part and even those loyal to Gordon wouldn't have reason to look the other way for Brooke and John, they would have even more reason to report since Brooke is the one that got Gordon fired. Batwoman could ask for favors but Brooke would be persona non grata regardless of who was watching.

They would be charged, might even be labeled terrorists if Waller was in a particular mood. The charges would all stick too and neither one of them could afford that sort of circus. It would mean investigation, GCPD scouring her home even more than they had when her father's ties to the mob had surfaced. She could not afford that.

Before they did anything they would need to know how much the media knew, and thus how much the general public knew. They might need to pick a station, a reporter to turn to their side and tell their story should things be heading inevitably south. Not that she trusted reporters, particularly after Vale, but there were times spinning a story to one was a necessary evil. They had to do something after all if they wanted to survive.

What they really needed was proof of Waller's ties to Lotis, something to dangle over her head in order to stay the woman's hand. They needed blackmail to hold ransom for blackmail; something that would let her hold her own in a tête-à-tête with the director; something just a damning as Brooke's own secret. With that, she could negotiate both hers and John's freedom.

With little warning, she felt a drop of rain splatter against her forehead, a cold shock to her system. Another drop collided with her cheek and then her eyelid as the somber clouds rolled above them with intent. She and John were partially dry from the wind whipping among the rocks but with this new element, the work of the wind would be dashed. Neither of them needed to be drowned a second time. By the increase in John's speed, he must have been thinking something similar.

John's movements were hurried, hasty for someone climbing onto a dock with another body in their hold. It only took a minor slip of his foot to throw him off balance, pitching them both forward; he caught himself, avoiding a crash against the pilings or the smooth planks of the dock but all the sudden motion was enough. Brooke grit her teeth, throat spasming to silence the cry of pain that forced its way into her throat at the intensified motions. Her eyes squeezed shut to block out the ruination of effort her wounds had been making to clot and close over. She felt them rip, reopen whatever had closed, the bloody clothes ripping the dried portion away. The fresh blood was hot and uncomfortable in addition to the horrible burn of fire lighting her severed nerve endings in sadistic retaliation for having the idiocy to be shot. Her body was a roiling mess of angry, vengeful wounds intent to make her suffer.

Pain was only in the mind, she reminded herself, only a way for the body to alert her to her injuries. She knew she was injured and she had no need for the alert. She could take it. It was nothing but impulses and stimulus that could be controlled and ignored. If she endured for a while it would lessen because she would grow steadily used to it. She took a deep breath, trying for relaxation techniques. Pitty in her eagerness to control the pain she forgot about her punctured lung.

A garbled shriek escaped her between the horrible, rattling coughs. She clawed at the front of John's shirt, struggling against the horrifying feeling of not being able to breathe, torn apart by the pain swarming every single identifiable portion of her brain. John took off at a sprint, struggling to hold onto her as she jerked and twisted in his arms. He scrambled under an overhang, a jutted out portion of what could be a loading dock and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. Every one of his movements was frantic and jerky as he draped her legs to the side and angled her back against his chest to support her in an easier breathing position. She leaned weakly against him, head lolling into the palm of his hand as he cradled her as fully as his long, gangling limbs were able. Eventually, she began to breathe again, the coughing dying down from the continuous loop into sporadic, disjointed coughs that still hurt but did not leave her with the feeling of drowning in her own blood.

She knew her lips were coated in red when she felt the liquid warmth run down her chin. That doctor he talked about better be skilled. It slowly dawned on her that they were no longer being rained on. The wind still whipped around them but they were seated on dry ground. John was whispering little assurances into her ear, things she couldn't quite hold onto but knew were soothing and kind, no doubt promises, the sort of bargains people make with the dying to convince them to hold on just a few moments longer. She wished she could still hear them properly but her ears were ringing enough to disturb her normally keen hearing.

Even so, here she was dry and relatively safe with John curled around her generating a little warmth. It never crossed her mind that she would die like this, so pathetic in its lack of explosions, hostages, helicopters, or masked men with automatic weapons. Still, though it was less than ideal, she still had so much left to finish in Gotham, people she would have liked to see again, regrets she would have liked to blot out, but it was not the worst way to die.

She was nearly asleep when he began to move, sliding out from behind her and easing her back against the wall in his stead. A distinct tingling of panic washed over her and she clutched at him, desperate for him not to leave. Had he decided to leave her and take his chances, far better chances than he had with her to slow him down? It almost stung of betrayal, but really, how cold she expect him to stay? As she was, she knew she was helpless. She knew she had lost a substantial amount of blood; she knew the river had facilitated any number of complications likely including shock; she knew she could not make it far on her own.

"I'll be back before you know it, you won't even miss me I'll be so fast," he promised her over and over again before he pulled away and raced out into the rain.

Once he was out of sight she found herself wondering how he would do without her. Hopefully, he did not run into another Harley. Perhaps he would get lucky, find someone that could honestly help him. Avesta, maybe? Surely she would help him, at least on the case, help him with the virus. Maybe Alfred would take John in, the man had a way with lost strays, after all. She wasn't entirely fatalistic, precisely, but she knew that while the cold did help slow her bleeding she would not last long once the shock and hypothermia took full hold. Her gadgets were gone, she'd lost her earpiece in the river, and she was distinctly out of options. She didn't care to fight it. In some ways, she'd been looking for her own end the moment those pearls clattered to the ground in a dark path behind a theater.

Brooke only mildly registered a car pulling to a stop in front of her. The car door was nothing but a distant click, but she recognized John's footsteps any day. She did not resist when his wet arms scooped her up but she also did not stay cognisant long after he settled her very gently into the back seat of a car she had never seen before. Her last question was wondering if he stole it.

"Borrowed," he told her softly, "for a good cause."

She hadn't realized she asked the question aloud.

* * *

Brooke is sure she had not closed her eyes or blinked in a while because they feel dry and crusty so she blinks them a little wildly. The feel of a medical table holding her up was a familiar one, though this one is clearly not located in her cave. There is clarity to her mind even though it feels like looking up into the world from underwater. Part of her is surprised she woke at all considering the last moments she really remembers. Her vision begins to clear away from the blurry mass she had formerly been staring at uncomprehendingly.

The first thing she really sees is the shine of a round pair of glasses perched atop a nose and she has a moment to wonder blearily who is behind them when the man smiles with what she might classify as too many teeth, too much to make her feel like he's not snarling down at her and the thin line of a beard along his jaw did not help smooth that illusion.

Where is John?

"Ah, you're coming back around! That's excellent!" He smiled the entire time he spoke, something she thought was intended to soothe her and fell flat, "Welcome back, Ms. Wayne. I am Doctor Hugo Strange and that is my assistant, Mrs. Pebody."

Brooke does not bother to turn her head in order to see the assistant. She is simply too tired to care, a bone-deep sort of weariness that zaps the desire to turn her head or even her eyes in any direction. Expending effort hold a decided lack of appeal. She would close her eyes and sleep if she felt safer around the man and if she knew where John was. Was John safe? Did he at least have dry clothing?

The glasses, they were rose-colored glasses, she realized and she wondered how functional they could really be. Were they really all for show?

He was wearing the clothing of a doctor but something about him, perhaps the shaved head, screamed a lack of bedside manner. Though his tone was inherently relaxed and calming, the undertone feels patronizing, amused, perhaps Machiavellian in nature. She might have only just woken up but she already felt a strong desire to be away from that man, something about him grates all wrong against her instincts. Was he really the doctor John told her about?

Was he a doctor at all? She supposed he must be but considering Harley was the one recommending him it was doubtful he was a particularly good one. Skilled, maybe, but unlikely good. There was a high likelihood that he ran a chop shop in back and peddled body parts. The less time she spent with him the more likely it was that she would walk out still in possession of a liver.

"You have been a difficult patient, Ms. Wayne," he continued in that rich voice, "and I am so glad to see you progressing so well already! You're a strong young woman."

Already? "How," her voice sounds like she gargled glass, and it made her flinch, "how long?"

"Only a day and a half." Strange told her with another smile, "Your friend brought you in during the night and you were operated on immediately. You are still heavily medicated so you should not be feeling any pain for quite some time. Regardless, you will need to take it very slowly. Your lung will also need time to properly reinflate." He chuckled slightly as he told her, "We almost lost you, my dear. It is best to keep that in mind."

"Where is-"

"Oh, I'll inform him you are awake. I know he will be immensely relieved." He cooed at her.

She hated how smugly knowing he was.

"Is he alright? My friend?" She found herself lacking the strength for any sort of eloquence and speaking made her throat tighten.

"Yes, yes, he's quite well. Simply worried about you."

"Whatever the charge is, I'll pay you." She knew this could not have been for free and if she reminded him who she was; well, if she still had all her organs it was probably because he knew who she was; there would be no trouble, "I always pay my debts."

"Of course, of course, I have no doubt." He paused, studying her even more closely, "You might not remember me but I knew your father. We worked together on a few projects."

Her eyes widened, her body suddenly far more on edge, "Oh?" was all she could force out. Was there anyone her father didn't know? Now she really wanted to leave! Knowing the sort of work her father had been involved in, the connection did nothing at all to make her feel any more at ease around him.

The sudden increase in beeping and his eyes sliding to the side of her lead her to realize she was connected to a heart monitor. She had not even considered that and she instantly made an effort to relax.

Those rose-colored glasses gleamed as he turned his attention back on her, "I understand that what you have recently been through has been very traumatic. So much has been thrown into your life the last year, I imagine it must be quite overwhelming."

For Brooklyn Wayne, a rich little trust fund child, it would be. For Batwoman, it was nothing she could not handle. He could not know that, "Yes..." She said quietly, restricting herself to answers she could give easily.

"If you need someone to talk to..." He reached a hand forward and touched her knuckles with his fingertips, "I'm also knowledgeable in that area. Psychiatry is another specialty of mine. With everything that has happened, perhaps it might do you some good to come to see me in that capacity as well. Having known your family, I would consider it an honor to help you through these traumas in any way I can."

"Thank you, " she forced her lips into a smile, "I'll remember that, but right now I've got a lot going on that needs my attention."

He smiled knowingly, "No doubt."

"When can I go?"

He cocked his head, pressing the tips of his fingers together before fanning them out and back in with a little rhythm, "Soon. Now that you are awake we will be able to evaluate your condition accurately. If you pass our tests I see no reason you should not be able to leave today so long as you do absolutely nothing strenuous." That sickly smile again, "We don't want you ripping out all those stitches."

Today? Well, that was something. She might leave with all her parts so long as they were not already missing. They could go-

Oh, yes, they were a little limited on places they could run to. Anything that was obviously in her name was out of the question, Waller would be crawling all over known locations. It would need to be one of her locations that did not identify with the Wayne name at all. She had a few of those spread out under various names for various cover stories.

The doctor walked away while she silently contemplated the next best course of action but moments later there was a high pitched whine that gave her the motivation to turn her head. There, in an open doorway stood Dr. Strange and a very watery eyed looking John. His clothes were rumpled but his hair did look brushed. The purple bruises under his eyes made it clear he had not slept in far too long. He looked an absolute wreck but he smiled bright and excited when he found her eyes staring back at him.

"Remember, John, you must be very careful with her. She's still very fragile."

Brooke bristled instantly at the particular wording but John simply nodded along meekly as he nearly tiptoed closer.

"If she starts coughing, give her the pillow to hold to her chest. It will help." Strange mimicked that bedside manner she still did not believe for a second.

John nodded again, wringing his hands and glancing frantically around until he located the mentioned pillow. Though now that it had been brought up, her throat tickled as if her body suddenly needed to test the doctor's words and she frantically held back that urge. She remembered well how painful coughing had been the last time and she had no desire to go through it again and she would resist that urge at all cost. Drugged or not she did not care to risk that sort of experience.

"H-how are you, buddy?" John asked as he tugged a rolling stool beside her and eased onto it.

"I'm fine. A little tired." That was an understatement.

John's breath comes out shaky, "Thought I'd lost you for a minute there." He smiled like he was trying to make light of it but the dimmed sheen of his eyes dampened any attempts at levity.

She twitched her lips into what she hoped was an encouraging smile, "I'm not that easy."

He laughed but it somehow sounded more like a sob in disguise. "Honestly, what was I thinking, right? All worried about nothing! Nobody can take you down! You're... you know, **you**!"

"Darn right!" She agreed still clinging to her own weak smile.

His hands jumped from his own lap to latch onto her have, long white fingers linking with hers and cradling her hand like he might have a wounded bird. He slumped forward, laying his forehead on her wrist.

She wanted to reach her free hand out and stoke his hair for comfort but she didn't have the energy. Instead, she used what she had to squeeze his fingers in assurance. The returned squeeze was gentle, he did it three times, like a code. She wondered briefly if three squeezes meant the same thing now as they had in high school. Just in case, she flexed her fingers three times as well.

John shifted, settling his head on her hip and turning her hand over so he could place a long, reverent kiss to the center of her palm.

Something warmed inside her, that is until the coughing started. Pain medication or not, it hurt just as much as she remembered it had. John scrambled for the pillow and placed it vertically over her chest. She hugged it reflexively until the end when she could fall back against the pillow under her head. Hugging a pillow did seem to help, or maybe it was all in her mind.

"Don't ever leave me again, Brookie, please?" John whispered in a watery voice as he climbed onto the table with her, spread out on his side, face buried in her hair, one arm very carefully placed over the top of her.

His closeness made her acutely aware of her lack of clothing and what amounted to a hospital gown in their place, but she shoved the thought to the back of her mind.

She settled her hand on his arm, "I won't."

Perhaps she could keep that promise, perhaps not, but she would make the effort for his sake. He worried about her and she didn't like the idea of leaving him alone. Speaking of worried parties, she needed to find a way to contact Alfred.

"John, is there any way you could... borrow a phone from somewhere? I need to let Alfred know we're both still alive."

"I did that already. I said I was from your internet provider first, to be sure he could talk. Couldn't tell him much but I... told him everything was fine. It- it wasn't really, not then, you were still... But I figured it was better to not let him know that."

Something life gratitude folded her and she tilted her head in order to kiss what she could reach of his face, "You're a lifesaver. What did I do to deserve a wonderful guy like you?"

It wasn't patronizing the way it would have been with any of her old, fake boyfriends. She meant it this time. He was honestly good to her, understood her, knew what she wanted without being told. How could she have asked for a man that would cover for her like that? He needed the praise anyway.

It took a while for him to answer, "If you really think that, how about you just never get shot again so I have to lie, huh?"

"I'll keep that firmly in mind." She offered.

"I like Alfred." He announced suddenly.

"Me too. He grows on you pretty fast."

She could feel him smile against her, "All British people like that or just him?"

Brooke shook her head slightly, "I think he's a man all his own. You couldn't duplicate him if you tried."

"You're not too replaceable either." His hold tightened slightly.

"Neither are you. I guess we'll all just have to stick around, yeah?"

"Yeah." He agreed quietly, and they lapsed into silence, long enough she nearly fell asleep before he said, "I'd do anything for you."

That made her eyes snap open. She had no idea what to reply to such a sweet, drastic declaration, but he continued, saving her from needing to.

"Maybe this doesn't make sense, but where Harley was my lights, you're my new Arkham. You're a deep lake and the grassy hills around it. You're an untouchable forest in the middle of a city. You soften all the loud voices around me so I can hear myself think. When I'm with you I think I'm... okay."

Brooke didn't have any idea what to say to that either. "Joh-"

The door opened and John hastily scrambled off and away for the table as the good doctor entered. John resembled more of a deer caught in headlights than his usual self.

Strange glanced between them and there was a decided smirk hiding under his professionalism, more than before. "Shall we have a look at you to see if you're ready to be moved?" He glanced between them again, "Only a few minor tests, nothing to worry about."

There was always a reason to worry when a doctor said there was nothing to worry about. She did so hate doctors.

* * *

Note: So, I brought Dr. Strange into this, basically because she was actually almost dead. (Because seriously! What even were those cops in the game? Were they Clones from Star Wars? Most of them were pretty close on the bridge so why could they not even come remotely close to hitting anything? They were trying to kill John as per Waller's order. Why couldn't they even nick anything?) She took a bullet in the shoulder that nicked an artery near the heart and another that got her lung, add in the river and all the stuff in there (you can't tell me it's sanitary), the cold, plus she'd already been injured so many times in the past. You get the picture. The game beats up Bats so, so bad all the time, I thought I'd stay on the wagon.

I really liked Gotham's Dr. Strange even though I had some issues at first with like, "wait, what have they done to B D Wong!" But I got over that and enjoyed him being evil. I also really liked the twist (spoilers?) that Strange had known the Wayne's for a really long time, which is not my headcanon for this story too because it makes even more sense with Thomas being a criminal!


	11. Chapter 11

**Telltale Bats**

 _Classes have been killing me, guys! Why do I want higher education again? Why do teachers assign so many PAPERS! I've also been sick, again.  
Also! WTF have I been hearing about telltale?! What are they doing?!_

* * *

It was colder by the water than it was within the confines of the city and all its towering buildings with those twisted statues atop them. The wind was sharper with more bite when not blocked by glass, metal, or stone. The air was on in the car, huffing warm air out in an effort to give comfort to the occupant within. It was not really enough to relax him, not with everything on his mnd, but it helped.

James Gordon hardly even believed the tip he had gotten from one of his officers manning the usual tip line for call-ins. Usually, the tips weren't credible, not at all, but apparently, this one sounded viable to the receiving officer. Rather than report it to Waller, however, she phones him instead. The idea she seemed to be operating under was that if he brought Wayne in the way he had tried to the first time, it would lend to a reinstatement. After all, from the rumors running around, he had been right about the situation all along where Waller had been wrong.

Deciding it could not hurt to check, he'd fished out his off-duty, personal weapon and driven out to the docks. Something about it did not sit right with him though; not the tip, and not even the dingy building no Wayne would be caught dead in; it was the stories. Waller never released an official statement about what happened on the bridge. Popular rumor was a slippery thing and it played most commonly one of two ways; in one, Doe had taken Wayne as a hostage in a blazing sort of glory as he jumped off the bridge; in the other, Wayne had been an explicit partner with the Pact all along and escaped with Doe and the virus of her own accord to avoid capture.

Before his botched arrest, he would have believed the later. Waller had yet to explain if the APB was for Wayne as a suspect or as a victim. In that office, the woman had been dogged about keeping Brooke out of his custody, belligerently so. Now she was suddenly just as ready to see Wayne hang as rescued by not telling anyone what really happened? Her own agents knew, he was sure of that, but they were keeping the DPD entirely in the dark as to Wayne's status. Need-to-know. He could happily spit in the woman's face.

However, even the duplicitous nature of Brooke's connection to Waller and the Pact wasn't what had gotten under his skin. It was not what was keeping him in the car to stare at the dilapidated building on the waterfront that had been out of use for years. No, it was those last few moments up in that office with Brooke staring at him with those big round eyes that begged him to understand something he could not seem to latch onto, the way she stood up to Waller for him rather than against, and it was the way she looked at him as he left. He did not know what to think anymore, he just knew something was off about the entire thing. There was something nagging at the back of his mind that he just could not put a name to.

With a sigh, he tossed open the car door with it squeaking and groaning too loudly. He drew his weapon before checking the front door. It was locked, unsurprisingly, so he edged around to the back, not ready to announce himself if anyone was around. He looked for possible points of entry and found a window open enough for him to get his fingers in to push it open. He heaved himself up and rolled silently onto the floor with an inward grumble about being too old for that sort of thing.

No one was on the first level from his careful sweep but there were signs of traffic all the same, recent. With great care, he glided up the cement steps, glad they were not going to creak on him. He did not dare touch the railing though considering it looked ready to snap off with nothing but a tap. It was hard to believe the last of the Wayne line would be hiding in a place like this one. The farther in he got though, the higher floors were in a considerably better condition like someone wanted the place to look run down from below to discourage anyone from looking any farther.

The fourth and final level was bright and sunny from the windows in the hall, dust mostly clear. It almost looked homey and well cared for, lending to his assumption that someone wanted it to look abandoned. He had a strong feeling that if he tried to turn on the water or a light there would be power. Brooklyn might be more cunning than he gave her credit for.

When he looked inside one of the rooms he nearly gasped, unprepared for what he found. It would seem Brooke was on location, perhaps even the owner, but now he understood why she might be here. Bloody bandages were discarded into a bit in the corner and various medical equipment was littering most available spaces, particularly the table beside the couch. And it was there he had seen her, the first moment he looked inside.

She looked too still, peaceful like death laid out on an ugly orange couch, a huge plethora of pillows propping her up into a sitting position. There was a neck pillow slung around her shoulders as if holding her own head up was too much to ask, something she needed assistance with. There was makeup still on her face but the dark ring of eyeliner was more smudged than he had ever seen it, the shadows on her eyelids smudged awkwardly, and her lips were uncharacteristically lacking the usual coat of color she habitually painted on. It was like looking at an attempt she had made to hold a... for lack of a better word, _mask_ in place with characteristic stubbornness, but she couldn't quite manage it.

He wondered then, a tightness gripping his chest for entirely unknown reasons, if the rumors about the bridge incident were true. Maybe what they said was true. She'd taken bullets before the swan dive into the water. He had scoffed before, but not now.

He continued to inch forward, quiet heal to toe motions, gun still fixed on her in the event it was a trick. Gordon made it to the doorway before her eyes suddenly snapped open; he would never admit in a million years that it made him jump. He was sure he had not made a sound but her eyes landed on him instantly, as if guided by some otherworldly sense of her surroundings.

He jerked the gun up more threateningly, ready for her to swing an arm out with her own gun, but she seemed to relax upon seeing him, like the gun in his hand was no more threatening than if he was holding a get well card. Her eyes slide from wide open to half mast.

"Hello, Gordon," Brooke muttered softly, a terribly tired tint to her thinned voice.

"Hands where I can see them!" He ordered gruffly, internally reminding himself of her alleged complicity with The Pact and all its members as well as the stolen virus she was supposed to be in possession of alongside her partnership with the last free remaining member of the group.

She complied by easing both hands out from under the tan blanket she was covered in but she said nothing further.

"Where is your partner?" He demanded, the edge still in his voice.

Her brow crinkled as she stared at him and purposefully neglected to answer, "I'm not really surprised you are the one that found me. Such a stubborn-" She stopped talking abruptly, cutting off with a look of pain.

He would not be swayed so easily, "Where is your partner? Where is the virus?" Another step closer for added menace.

"Safe." She stated shortly and he wondered if she was talking about Doe or the virus.

"Pardon me if I don't find that comforting coming from a member of the Pact!" He snapped with more ire than he expected.

The smile she offered him was small, exhausted, but real, even if there was a strange sort of sorrow underlying. "Yes, I can see how that assumption would put my judgment into question. However..." She paused, taking a moment to simply breathe uneasily, her fingers bunching into the blanket, "I was never..." she was struggling either to breathe or against pain, "...a legitimate member. I had a way in because of my name an wealth, so I took it, but my involvement was never for the reasons they believed."

"How about you enlighten me on that?"

She seemed to waver, processing her words carefully before she spoke, "I was an undercover operative."

"For Waller?" He snapped, and this time the anger was intended. He hated to admit it, but that would make a world of sense. But why Waller? Why was it always THAT woman? Why were people always hiding things from him?

She hesitated again, "I can't tell you everything."

He took another step forward, temper ratcheting up, "How about you give it a try!"

Her eyes took him in, studied him so closely, then the admittance fell from her lips, "Yes, for Waller. Which is why she wouldn't allow you to arrest me, she still needed me."

Something about her tone left the real end of that sentence audibly hanging in the air, so he said it when she wouldn't, "I take it she doesn't need you anymore? That why your hiding out here?"

That sad smile returned, "Generally speaking, yes."

"How about you explain that one! Why did you two have a falling out? You seemed pretty chummy up in your office."

Brooke sighed, then seemed to regret it, clutching the blanket to her chest. It took her a minute, but she did answer, "I'd never call us close, but we worked together out of necessity. We-"

Jim cut in, unable to stop himself, "The kind of necessity that kept you out of jail? Did she give you a free pass? An excuse to do whatever you wanted while you were undercover? That kind of necessity? I can see how that arrangement could be lucrative, right?"

A sort of hurt shot into her eyes, sort of like he'd stuck a knife in her gut and twisted, "No. It wasn't like that."

"Then what's it like, Wayne? Why would the Agency turn on its favorite new pet? How about you give me a real answer and quit acting like you're still in Dent's pocket, Waller's either! Playing that game hasn't served you that well so far, has it? Dent tossed you into Arkham and Waller's out for your head! Your former of psycho pals are in cages, cursing your name. You've got no one left out there to bail you out! Try getting wise and talk to me for once! Unless, of course, you plan on ending up like your former employee, Lucious Fox, 'cause I gotta tell you, that's where you're headed!"

If possible, she lost even more color, looking more pained, and he knew he shouldn't have been so cruel. He was trained to hit open wounds, push buttons, gain reactions to get a confession. Contrary to popular belief, he knew how to do his job and he'd been doing it long before Batwoman showed up. He'd obtained plenty of confessions in his day and verbally fileting a perpetrator never caused him a moment of guilt, but looking at her, he couldn't help wishing he could take something back.

Brook's eyes slid to the side, over to the wall rather than anywhere near him. She looked as close to lost as he'd ever seen her but that sad little smile was still on her lips, like holding it up was all she knew to do. That cold, rich, powerful, mob daughter seemed a faraway idea to him now. That was not the face of some kind of stone-cold killer, not the face of an uncaring billionaire, and not of a terrorist, it was just the sad little girl he found so many years ago. He'd all but forgotten about her, that sad-eyed little kid that always drew his mind to puppies out in the rain left in boxes labeled free.

"Waller approached me... told me about Lotus and the Pact, about the virus, she thought I could get them to let me in. She wanted me to find out what they knew, what they had, where they went. So I went in... Harley had known my father somewhere down the line... or knew of him, so she thought she understood me and thought I wanted to earn my name." Her face twisted into a silent snarl, "I let her think that. I let them all believe that."

"I suppose that's not true, huh? You're nothing like your old man?" He didn't know why he sounded incredulous, bitter, because somewhere after he'd lost his job, he'd stopped being so sure she was evil.

"I hope not." She answered simply, shifting her eyes a little closer to him.

"But you're not above reaping the benefits?" Jim didn't know why he couldn't stop, all that stress he'd been carrying inside so long seemed to have decided to vent onto her and he could not quite get a handle on it.

Her eyes suddenly snapped wide, "No, don't!" She shouted, throwing her body forward off the couch. He didn't understand.

She didn't make it more than a few hurried steps before her knees hit the cement floor, breaths sounding like drowning. Gordon tipped his gun away, ready to go to her, but a horribly loud metallic clatter jerked his attention to his left. The sound reverberated through the little room and he shifted his gun toward a rolling metal pipe that eased past his feet. The motion was so fast he almost didn't notice a person shaped blur move past on his right, but he felt the brush of motion before he really saw it.

Jim recognized the slender man frantically scooping Brooke up off the floor, white face a twisted sort of terror. Brooke was coughing, making terrible, pained sounds while she clutched at her chest. The green haired man dropped onto the couch, using his own body as a living pillow to prop her up into the easiest breathing position possible. He shoved a pillow at her and she obediently hugged it.

Jim's gun dangled from nearly limp fingers as he watched her writhe and jerk in the man's arms. Punctured lung, possibly more besides that, but the liquid sounding cough and blood speckles lips were proof enough that she was not supposed to have been moving around as she had. It had been only a few days since the bridge incident, there was no way she was anywhere close to stable if she'd been shot. She should be in a hospital, not some dingy, abandoned building.

Watching the scene in front of him, he realized several things at once. The pipe on the floor had been intended for the back of his head; he had been threatening her at gunpoint since he walked into the room; Brooke's reaction had been to prevent the followthrough with that pipe; and with the way Doe was holding her, scared out of his mind and so very gentle with her, looking like his entire world was shaking rather than just Brooke, the man was bloody well in love with her down to his core. No chance he was the one that shot her, so it had been Waller's people.

It seemed like forever but the coughing stopped and she relaxed back, melting into Doe like it was the most natural thing in the world. Gordon realized another thing to add to the list; she reciprocated Doe's feelings. She swiped at the table with one arm, clumsily snatching a box of tissues off it to bunch up over her mouth and hide the evidence. Whether she wanted to hide it from him or from John was anyone's guess, but it was too late anyway.

She looked so terrible. She was in pain, hurt, sick, vulnerable, and it showed. For some wild reason, he thought of the way Batwoman had looked after they pulled her out from under that collapsed structure. He decided he hated it, in both cases, seeing them hurt.

Doe didn't look much better than Brooke even though he didn't seem injured. When he slipped his gun under his belt he knew he was not going to be taking them in, not to hand over to Amanda Waller at least. "Why don't we start over?" Jim offered with a huff, "You two tell me what's going on and we figure everything out from there."

John glared daggers at him, "How did you find us?"

Gordon shrugged, "I'm a cop and people talk, rumors fly around when Brooklyn Wayne is involved."

"Or maybe you're in Waller's corrupt pocket like everyone else!" John's tone was dangerous, enough to put Jim on edge and make his fingers twitch closer to the gun he'd decided not to keep holding.

"She's no friend of mine, I'll tell you that," Gordon interjected, cutting off what looked like a tirade coming closer for the odd looking man. "Look, I wanna help you but you're going to have to help me help you."

"And why should we trust you? The Agency is just salivating to get their hands on-" He cut off when Brooke nudged him with her head.

Jim gave him an arched look, "Like you got anyone else lined up for the job? You don't have to trust me, lover-boy."

John's jaw dropped but he recovered with an angry growl, "As a matter of fact-"

"John," Brooke patted his arm with a bit too little energy, "it's okay, he's a friend."

"But Brooke...He's a cop, he's one of _them!_ While you're...y-you know..." He shook his head as if to clear something out, the furious glare did not go away, "Friends don't threaten you with loaded guns!"

She smirked, eyes only half-mast, "They do on occasion. It's better than getting kicked down the stairs."

Whatever that was referencing, John seemed to understand, "Never liked her either! You need better friends."

"Yours tried to freeze me or crush my skull." She countered without any bite at all, more fondness than anything.

"We need better friends." Doe amended after a beat.

They were... sickeningly sweet. The way they just existed together in the same space. All that crazed heat just pittered out when Doe spoke to her. The clown looking man curled around her like a protective blanket, eyes softer and saner when they fixed on her. Jim was not sure he was comfortable with how comfortable she looked being in the arms of a former Arkham inhabitant either. Then again, she'd spent time in the nuthouse too. Maybe they were a better match than you'd expect. Jim was too old to play observer to young love. "Great. You two have no taste, so now that that's settled, maybe we can have this conversation."

John once again glared up at him but this time there was far less heat behind it.

Brooke seemed like she wanted to laugh but refused to risk it, just smirking bemusedly at him, "This coming from the man that waits for a Bat on rooftops with a glorified flashlight?"

The glare fell right off the clown's face as he cackled like a hyena. She closed her eyes a minute like she was just too tired to handle all of this. Most likely, she really was. It looked like just breathing took more effort than was normally allotted for an involuntary action.

Gordon shrugged, offering his own bemused smile, "In this city? You take what you can get, I guess."

She hummed an agreement, "Only in Gotham."

"We've got flair!" John grinned impossibly wide and hugged her body closer. "Or we're all just a little freaky."

Brooke smiled again, breath stuttering and chest hitching strangely as if she had struggled to abort a laugh or a cough, or even both. It did not work well enough and her body rocked with several more deep, wet, raspy coughs. John clung to her like he could will it all away if he simply tried hard enough.

"Sorry..." He whispered when she sort of melted back into him, boneless in an exhausted sort of way.

She did not bother to look at either of them when she spoke after a shaky inhale, "At this point, we're going to need each other. Gordon wants his job back and we want our names cleared. To achieve that, we need a plan, leverage. She has a lot of power but she also has a lot of secrets. Without substantial firepower of our own-" She cut off in a wheeze-"if we want to avoid being branded terrorists and reestablish the right man in the commissioner's seat."

"You want us to stop Waller-as-as a team?" John sounded oddly hopeful and skeptical.

"How are we supposed to get any evidence on Waller? She's running the show down there. Even my own people have no idea what's going on unless she wants them to." Gordon huffed.

She nearly smiled, "We have Riddler's laptop and all his evidence, for starters. We have the virus."

Jim's brows arched high enough to nearly find his hairline, "Riddler's evidence?"

She looked like it was difficult for her to part with further information, as if she was too used to keeping secrets of particular magnitude, which did make sense in her line of work. "Riddler had videos, documents, the works for a project called 'Lotus' which is where the virus was born and how Riddler came into contact with it."

"How'd you get your hands on the laptop?" If it did contain evidence, it might not even hold up in court considering Brooke had been acting as an agent of the police. It might be a rough go taking anything she brought in to trial for anyone.

John tensed and her brow twitched before she admitted, "John stole it from Harley for me. A...friend of mine helped me decrypt it so we could access the information."

Good to know. "And what does that have to do with Waller? What does the virus have to do with her?"

"She's in it up to her beady eyeballs!" John rumbled, reminding Jim of the way a cat's voice shifted before it began to hiss.

"Project Lotus was started by the Agency before the branch broke away." It was obvious she was less than comfortable showing her hand, laying her cards down one by one, "They were testing bioweapons on humans, which is what corrupted Riddler's mind and turned him into the monster we all knew. The Agency knew about Lotus and have been trying to do damage control to distance themselves from the fallout. While Waller assured me the Agency no longer condones or permits those types of experiments once I confronted her, I find it...increasingly likely that they just don't want anyone to know what happens behind closed doors, particularly considering how desperate she is to get her hands on the last existing sample of the Lotus virus."

"I shoulda known!" Jim cursed, "No wonder she jumped in and took over the way she did. Had to cover it all up before anyone got wise!" Maybe he should not be so quick to take the word of a supposed terrorist and her crazy boyfriend, but for whatever his sanity and judgment were worth, he honestly did not doubt a bit of it.

Brooke tipped her chin in something of a nod, "Waller swept the information under the rug but I think..." Brooke grimaced, "she wants to revive the project. Actually, she already tried to use a live test subject that I know of. Freeze was infected during the raid and she was trying to, or she was going to, use him as a new Riddler in order to see what the virus would do to his body. Riddler is the only one that has ever survived the Lotus Virus but it seemed like Freeze might be the second."

Jim felt his gut twist like he just might be sick. How could anyone want to manufacture more of those kinds of psychos? He did not know all the details about the virus and Riddler's blood, but he knew a little, and none of it sounded good. People talked when they thought they were alone, and then his people told him whatever they overheard. Harley had been pretty informative on that bridge anyway. He doubted he really wanted to hear the full story but he knew he was going to have to anyway.

"She... _was_ trying to use him?" John ventured expression screwed up in puzzlement, which meant that bit was news to him. "What stopped her?"

Brooke glared at the wall like it held a picture of the woman, "I couldn't leave him like that. What they were doing to him was the same as outright murder!" Her expression fell into something regretful, "All I did was giving him a fighting chance, as he asked. He didn't deserve what they were doing to him. He's not evil... he's just messed up and desperate. What she was doing to him alone should be enough to put her under review, if I could prove it."

Jim pursed his lips in distaste, "Can you prove it? Any of it?"

"Some of it," she affirmed, "but not everything. The Agency is as careful as they are dangerous." She paused once again, considering her words, "Someone on the inside agrees with me. One of the agents destroyed what was found at the lab to be sure Waller could not get her hands on the virus. The sample we have is all that is left...and whatever happens, she can't get ahold of it. I don't trust her motivations or her methods."

John's agreement was low and heated, "That's no joke! After everything we did for those Agency bastards, helping them arrest the Pact, keeping Harley from blowing them sky high, and they still try to kill us! Turn on us like trick dice the minute we don't fall into line!"

"That why she's after you? You wouldn't give up the virus?" Jim guessed.

"She tried to shoot me when I didn't hand it over!" John snapped, "Right after I gave them Harley!"

"You did the right thing, John. You were right, no one, especially not the Agency, should have access to Lotus." Brooke sort of nuzzled her face into his neck just slightly, offering assurance, "Once we can safely destroy it she'll never be able to use it on anyone."

"They shot you!" John seemed to be fond of stage-whispers, like he thought it was better than yelling, "They almost killed you! I-they-it's not right! They need to be brought to justice! They have to answer for what they did!"

"And they will." She soothed, "Once we get the evidence, there will be nothing she can do, and our names will be cleared. It will all work out if we're patient."

"Patient?" John snapped, "What that woman needs is a dose of her own medicine! Maybe we could spike her shampoo with just a tiny bit of the virus."

"John." Brooke's tone was a warning crack that seemed to grudgingly snap him back from his musing.

She linked her fingers through his as if to ground him and he nodded distractedly, "Right. You're right, we just need to be patient."

"Who's this contact you have in the Agency?" Gordon was intent to correct this conversation direction.

Brooke's spine snapped suddenly straight and she looked him dead on in the eye, "Why would you ask me that?"

If he did not know better, which he sort of didn't, he would have thought she was suspicious of his motives, "Because I need to know who might be on our side and who not to turn my back on in a fight."

She smirked just a little, "In this city, you never turn your back on anyone."

"Except Batwoman." John piped up suddenly, eyes glittering, but that only made Brooke stiffen, "You can always trust Batwoman." John praised.

Gordon sighed, "That's true. Actually, If we could get ahold of her, she might be able to lend us a hand. If anyone would listen to this kind of crazy story and believe it, it's her."

Brooke seemed to deflate, and it was not in a good way.

John grinned impossibly wide, "Don't worry about that! I'll get ahold of her, no problem! I know her usual hiding places! I'm sure she can help us out! She probably has lots of information by now."

Jim thought suddenly that if looks could melt flesh, that man would be a puddle. Jealousy, possibly? Doe did seem a little... overly interested in this. If he did have some kind of crush of Batwoman, it's not like anyone could really fault him. Half the men in the city, even the criminals, admired her as much as they feared her. At the same time, the man had Brooklyn Wayne leaned up against him, the singularly most sought-after woman in more than just Gotham. Doe might need to learn the idea of a bird in hand, honestly. For all anyone knew, behind that mask was a nice, happily married woman with a family at home. It could even be why she was almost never seen out in the daylight hours, she might be taking care of children in the daytime. That was almost a terrifying thought, almost horrifying considering how many close calls Batwoman had recently. If she died, would she leave children behind? A grieving husband? Did they even know what she did during the night or would they only find out once she never came home and her unmasked face was plastered on the news? He hated to even consider that idea. Amanda Waller, a woman that apparently was not above human experimentation, knew her identity, and that thought sends a cold shiver down his spine. What would that woman do to Batwoman if she crossed her?

It might have been that thought prompting him to say, "We can't rely totally on Batwoman for this. She has her own problems to handle."

"Like Waller." John muttered.

He wondered, looking at the two of them, just how much they knew about that. Did Brooke know from her time undercover that Waller had Batwoman essentially chained up for the time being? How much had Brooke learned about the Agency side of the business while she was in there? Now that he was thinking it over too, with as close to Lucius Fox as the Bat seemed to have been, maybe Brooke did know a lot more than he might have formerly thought. Maybe that connection was the reason Batwoman had been so insistent on both Fox's innocence and Wayne's. His mind already began to draw a few connections that could plausibly support that but he cut himself off, deeming the current situation a poor time to be mulling that over. He was almost tempted to ask a few leading questions but reconsidered quickly.

* * *

After Jim Gordon left it was all Brooke could do to hold herself up, so in the end, she let John do it for her. Talking was particularly difficult. It made her lungs burn and twitch, her throat spasming around the forced use it had no desire to offer willingly. Her chest burned continuously where the bullets had torn into her but it was so much worse if she coughed or took a breath that was a little too deep. Sometimes she still felt like she was drowning in her own private river of blood and corrupted water. It also felt like someone was sitting on her chest while gently, slowly strangling her.

It was surprising how weak she felt, like breathing and existing was a task more likened to climbing a mountain. Having come as close to death as she had, perhaps it was natural. Dr. Strange informed her he had in fact lost her more than once during the operation. He humbly told her that a doctor of lesser skill would have lost her entirely. She hated the very idea of being indebted to that man but she supposed there was little she could really do after the fact. At least she did have her life and there were, as far as she knew, no missing parts she needed to be worried about. If she would have had her choices she would have been more likely to go to doctor Thompkins than Strange, but there was no going back.

As the night drew ever closer she found, as usual, the coughing increased right along with her pain levels. Her breaths stuttered pitifully in her chest before her entire body shook with the force of each choked breath. John was so patient, deceptively gentle for someone that suggested multiple creative methods of killing Amanda Waller. His long body stretched out on the couch as he bracketed her legs with his own, letting her nearly sit in his lap while he served to keep her sitting almost fully upright. His arms circled around her, fingers carefully linked in hers while he hugged her over the pillow perched on her chest. It felt nice to be caged in by him, safe in a very odd sort of way. As weak as she was, she liked feeling safe to combat the sense of vulnerability the injuries manufactured. It was not as if she could have fought off an attack when she could not even take a deep breath.

John had yet to offer even one complaint about her keeping him awake at night. He just stayed with her, getting her anything she needed, even if it was just a cup of hot coffee to soothe her throat and nerves. She hardly thought she deserved him.

"If he tries to doublecross you, I'll rip his spine out through his mouth! You mess with my buddy, that's what you get!" John informed her, a heated sort of protectiveness permeating everything about him.

"He won't, John." She tried to breathe carefully, shallow inhalations to keep from agitating her body, "He's a friend, I told you. He was the first one that gave me a chance as Batwoman."

"But he doesn't know," his voice was a low imitation of a purr, dangerous in some way, "he doesn't know it's you behind the mask. He might be loyal to the Bat, but what about you? How far can Brooklyn Wayne trust him?"

He did have a point, she would admit. There really was a difference, one she imposed on herself for not telling him, but it was a difference. She tugged one hand free from his hold in order to cover her mouth in hopes it would convince her body not to give in to the way her chest shook with the need to cough the lingering liquid in her lungs. If she did not stop coughing she would be in for another visit to Dr. Strange, no doubt. Her head was pounding from all the stress running over and through her body. It was only pain, she reminded herself. Pain was manageable. Mind over matter. Somehow, reminding herself did help.

She reached over and snatched up the pill she had been putting off in hopes that taking it a little later might enable her to sleep through the night this time. The coffee in her cup was still pleasantly warm and she was glad of the small comfort it afforded her. She really just wanted to rest.

John began a slow, methodical massage of her head with his long fingers, almost like he sensed to pressure building there. She wondered suddenly if he had ever tried to play the piano and she made a mental note to ask him later when speaking at length was less difficult and she did not have to save the task for important words. He worked with a tenderness, fingers running like a dance through her hair. He kneaded his way to the flesh of her neck and he began an intensive study of all those permanently knotted muscles bundled through her shoulder area. On occasion, she worked on those muscles herself but he had a much better way with it than she did. In no time she found her eyes drooping and her body moderately relaxing. It was a very rare thing for her to allow someone the kind of trust she was freely giving John. She typically did not even ask Alfred to do things like this for her, not for lack of trust but simply to avoid bothering him. With John, it all felt different. No doubt it was thanks to being in love with him, which was very inconvenient.

She knows, she knows being in love with John will probably spell her doom eventually; maybe doom for both of them It doesn't really matter now, it's done, she's been in love with him all along. He had her from the first unnerving smile and it's too late to cut that away now. Cutting that bond might kill them both at this stage. They are tied together, as John says. Perhaps more so than is strictly healthy for either one of them, if she's honest. She knows it impairs both their judgment and in times like they face now, that's ill-timed.

He does make her happy though, and she had nearly forgotten what that felt like it had been so long since she experienced it. She felt happy and it was addictive, so addictive, so dangerously nice. Whenever it all fell apart she wondered if it might not just kill her to have that stripped away. Was it really better to have loved a lost? Eventually, no doubt, she would find out. Good things simply never lasted, not in Gotham.

"Everything will be fine." She said, partly to herself and partly to John.

She thought she felt his lips press briefly into her hair, "Well, we have a plan now, at least. And some help, probably. Actually, I was thinking of asking a few of my friends for a little... technical assistance. I've got a buddy that does some pretty great work on cars and anything mechanical, customization and that sort of thing. I thought it might be worth seeing him later."

Absently, she nodded along, not sure what he might be up to, but it probably was not overly dangerous. They probably needed anything and everything they could get at this point. If John had a few tricks up his sleeve, who was she to argue? "That's great, John." She wasn't too worried.

"You think so?" She could hear him beaming at her even if he was behind her and she could not see him. "Well, I'll talk to him for sure. Maybe a few of my friends from the Stacked Deck could help out too! Keep an eye out, you know, stay on the alert for us. They could be our eyes and ears all over the city! It's funny, but no one ever notices those kinds of people, it's like they are invisible. If you don't look important, no one looks at you. That could be useful to us."

"Sure," she conceded, "good idea."

He could almost sense him preening behind her. Poor John, he just needed someone to take him seriously and have some faith in him. Goodness knows Harley never gave him that. He needed some positive enforcement in his life. He was far from stupid, he figured her out easily enough, after all. "Thank you." She whispered as she tipped her head enough to rest her forehead against his cheek. She loved him, she really did.

Brooke did not even realize she had spoken the secret little sentiment of love out loud as she slipped off into drug assisted sleep. John heard her just fine all the same. "I love you too, Brookie, baby." He whispered around the sudden lump in his throat, nuzzling his face into her thick hair, "I always did. More than you'll ever know. Never, never leave me, okay? Promise? I couldn't take that, you know? I'd do anything, anything for you! You know that, right?" He left a trail of tiny kisses over the side of her face where he could reach, gently touching them to her ear as he whispered a fervent, "anything."

"I-I can be better...I AM better! You'll see. I'll prove it to you, I promise. You make me... feel... real, like things around me are real, stable. I should've stood up to Harley for you sooner, then...then you'd know how I-how I feel. You'd understand how important you are to me. Who wouldn't fall for you, either one of you? Bat or Brooke. But, it's more than that, you're-you're my best friend too."

John closed his eyes with her, wishing he could drift off too, but he was afraid to try just in case it all turned out to be a dream later. He thought of that a lot, wondering if it had all been nothing but a dream and he was really just in his cell in Arkham. Maybe Brooke wasn't even real. But she had to be, she just had to be. Who could even make up someone like her if they tried? Probably.

* * *

Note: I'm not a medical student, by the way. I only know what I see on TV and read in books, so if I've got my medical stuff wrong, just pretend.


	12. Chapter 12

Rain gushed like a torrent from the dark clouds, lightning sparking up the whole sky at random intervals. The clouds were slung low in the atmosphere, mainly blocking out the moon. Of course it was raining, what else did it do in Gotham besides storm? Most of all if she needed good weather. It was bound to make navigating rooftops, particularly slanted ones, far more of a challenge. At her current state of recovery she dared not estimate how the added challenge would plague her body.

"Don't go out there!" John followed at her heels, all but gripping her cape and pulling, "You're not ready! Let me go instead, stay here!" He pleaded desperately. "I'll put the mask on and I'll impersonate you, no one will know!"

"They would know. You're very much not female." Not to mention they had different flows of motion, different stance, different mannerisms, different ways of speaking, and essential differences in every single way.

"Please, Batsy! Stay here and rest! I'll be your eyes and ears! No one will know I'm around!"

On someone with even a chip more in their willpower, the imploring voice would have worked to demolish resolve, "I have to go."

She adjusted the cowl, taking care to ensure it covered all it could. For additional measures she also snapped the lower portion in place as she had a feeling she would need the air filter in place to at least keep her from choking on the usual smoke that filled downtown. It would also hide the total lack of color in her skin and hide it if she coughed up blood at any point.

"This is crazy! And trust me, Brookie, I know crazy! Arkham was full of it!" John was not easily swayed by her resistance.

She could not say he was wrong but few people in her life had ever called her sane. "It's been two days since Gordon's visit."

"Two days, big whoop!" John intoned with more sarcasm that most even knew how.

"I took the medicine the doctor gave me. I'll be fine."

He settled his fists on his hips in a highly mothering stance, "You know, for such a brilliant person, you don't use much common sense! Pills don't solve everything! Especially not really big problems. Getting shot, you might know, isn't a pill kind of problem."

"It will suppress my symptoms long enough."

He offered her a snide, unimpressed look, "Because that's totally the issue. The issue totally isn't you being badly injured, it's clearly symptom suppression! Not recovery or anything silly like that!"

"There are more pressing matters than my injuries at the moment, John. If Batwoman doesn't make an appearance people will wonder why, which will lead them to ask questions. A few lucky ones might draw exactly the right conclusions as to why the Bat might not appear for extended amounts of time, even if the signal isn't turned on with Waller in charge. Since Jim sent me a message, he might have something. Even if he doesn't, it would be suspect if I didn't meet him myself."

If she did not show her masked face, the criminal element would really start smelling blood in the water if they had not already. Neither she nor the city could afford the fallout from anyone getting wind of her injury. It had always been one of the biggest reasons she purposefully made appearances in the public even if she had been badly injured. Many saw her as indestructible and she intended to keep that myth up in the minds of the people, especially the criminals. She had gone out in worse conditions in order to keep the criminals on the edge. They had to fear her, question her humanity. She needed them to see her as more frightening than human. Once upon a time, even Jim Gordon had his doubts about her demon blood status.

"I thought you trusted him." John sneered, acting like the very idea tasted bad in his mouth, "So why does it matter if he sees you or me?"

"As I said, I have to be seen somewhere or there will be talk. Gordon figuring it out would be one thing, someone else is another thing entirely. Waller knowing is what got us into this to start with, I can't afford anyone else sinking their teeth into my secrets."

His expressing turned on a dime from sad, to conflicted, to further worry, and settled on anger, "We just need to get Waller out of the way! Once that's done you won't need to worry! If we just-"

"Waller is one problem among many, John. We don't even know how many people she's told about me. It's the Agency as a whole, Waller especially, that we need to worry about. If we secure evidence against them, that's when we're in the clear."

"Right, we need leverage, I know! And we can get it! I can get it! I have contacts, eyes, and ears, a network! They can get your information and you can stay here!"

She shot him a look that likely didn't translate around a full mask, "All that would do is let even more people in on these secrets. Secrets only have power when no one knows them. The more people that know, the less power they have." She shook her head and threw open the window, "I'll keep you posted."

One step was all it took to exit the argument, her wings filling with current and snapping wide to carry her on the wind.

* * *

She landed a little heavier on the roof of the old quarry than usual, straightening more slowly than was acceptable but she tried not the draw attention to it.

It was mostly dark, still raining. The main source of light was from street lamps and the general glow of the city. There was cover from the elements in some places, which was exactly where she spotted the little group of five huddling in shadow.

The water ran off her in waves, polling fast at her feet once she stepped into their shelter. She kept her distance but being out of the rain was appealing even if the suit kept the water mostly off her; she still heard the rain beating against the cowl and she would be lying if she said it didn't get on her nerves. It was cold besides and the cold made her ache all the more.

Even the trip over, something normally effortless, had caused her significant pain. She felt it was highly unfair for such small holes in her body to hurt so much. Though she'd been shot in rather vital locations, so perhaps it was fair, just not welcome. In truth, she already felt the queasy sense in her stomach that clearly indicated that her body was less than enthused with her life choices. She never cared much for getting shot, it was highly inconvenient.

Gordon watched her approach, arms crossed over his chest, several officers by his side, including Harvey Bullock in his rumpled suit as well as Montoya. "Took you long enough," Jim grumbled.

He was still less than pleased with her for leaving his men to fight for Riddler's body alone. Probably moderately blamed her for not explaining Wayne's involvement in the case as well now. They might not be on bad terms but she could feel the lingering irritation. Jim was frustrated in general, particularly after finding out he had his own brand of villain taking over the GCPD. She should really have told him more a long time ago. Had she done so, she might still have him on the inside.

Gordon did not like being on the outside and he'd been forced to the sidelines by almost everyone on the case. It was that which prompted her to offer a sincere, "I'm sorry." In response. It was really the best she could offer, at least with an audience in attendance, or the mask over her face.

As Jim had been barred from duty, she expected no less than a few of his loyalists to be in his company. They were his informants now, more or less. That did not mean she liked seeing them there. The more people involved the less secure a secret.

"I'm surprised Waller hasn't come up here yet to throw us all off the squad by now after all the time it took you, " Harvey complained, "Stupid bat."

"Waller's busy," Montoya shot the other man a glare, "So let's hurry this up before she's not busy anymore!"

"What do you have?" Batwoman offered a curt, direct approach.

Jim stepped up, closer, farther into her space, "Quite a lot, but I don't know how much you know about Wayne's-"

"I'm up to speed." Batwoman offered briskly, "We need to keep Waller from getting her hands on a weapon with that kind of power, expose her, and decommission her power base. We also need to find the locations she's using for her main operations to shut them down as we can be sure she's not running the more unsavory options from the GCPD."

"Obviously." Jim sighed, "I've got contacts here, and a few around the city looking into it." He boring though large manila envelope from his pocket and held it out, "There are a few locations her people seem to frequent most so far. She's shipping a lot of things around as receiving a lot too. No idea what yet but probably a lot of the Lotus tech and information is going... well, wherever her base of operations is. Took some pictures, got shipping labels, but the addresses are all unlisted, supposedly vacant lots. It's not a lot to go on but it might lead to whatever she's got cooking."

Batwoman took the thick pocket, browsing the listed addresses, not finding them particularly shocking, "Anything else?"

Jim flicked his eyes to Montoya in an answer.

The officer stepped up, "Well, we've got some copies of a few files. She wasn't watching close enough and I copied a stack she printed." She produced a thick bunch of wrinkled papers from her jacket and handed those over along with a jump drive.

When Batwoman held it up in askance, Montoya shrugged, "Gordon said you can probably decode it where we can't. I can't even read any of it, weather reports and nonsense, so I figured it had to be important."

"I'm sure it will prove valuable." The Bat offered.

"I can do you one better!" Harvey did not move closer, stayed up against the grimy, weathered wall, but he smirked at her from under his fedora. "For starters, just before we came out here, I heard one of them list off some addresses they thought Wayne and the clown might be hiding."

Jim whirled on the man while Batwoman suddenly felt very unsteady, "You didn't think to tell me that sooner? Where do they think she is?"

Harvey looked only slightly chagrined but he listed several places. For a few seconds, her vision blacked when he hit on both the address on the docs Jim knew about and the correct location they moved to after Jim found them. Batwoman and Gordon were each sending a message before he fully spouting addresses. Jim, no doubt, was contacting Brooke; Batwoman was calling John.

The world felt both too large and too small at once. It was another mistake she had made, one in a long list. How many times would she make those kinds of errors before she finally learned? They should have been moving every day at least, not resting in a little nesting spot to wait for discovery.

A finger to her ear, turning her back to the group, and she silently begged him to pick up. When the phone rang and rang, finally going to voicemail, she hoped she did not appear as terrified as she was. Things inside her hurt, her guts felt even more twisted in knots.

"Get out, now!" She growled at his voicemail after the beep, "Waller is onto you! Her people may already be on the way."

Even if John had not answered, cutting the call was difficult, like it would somehow spell doom. Her heart was already pounding, something deeper than dread taking over the space in her chest. If she had simply agreed to take him with her, at least, he would be safe! She always endangered everyone the most when she believed they were safe.

If she'd been thinking clearly she would have moved them to another location the moment Jim sent her a message. Even with the blocked transmission, something might have connected right on Jim's end. Contacting Batwoman was secure but Waller could have found something as she was granted more access than any criminal hacker would be to the databases of Gotham and beyond. It might not have been the messages, it could have been tips like what Jim used to track her, but there was always the margin for error. Anything was possible! Waller was a dangerous foe with too many connections.

The resting, sleeping on a couch with John circled around her, it had made her slow and complacent, like a cat gorged on cream. She'd been planning to change locations tonight or tomorrow after Batwoman's appearance but she should have made it sooner. They were essentially ready to move so why had she hesitated? Sentiment? Complacency? Idiocy?

Granted, John knew they were moving, he might even be ready for a retreat. They had already destroyed most of the evidence of their stay and packed the rest away. Was it enough though? Waller showed no compunction about killing him at any other time. Were she to find John there, would she even hesitate to be rid of him? The woman seemed o hate him so much it was a little irrational.

She'd been careless! She could just scream and rage but it would do nothing at all.

Jim was suddenly right at her elbow and she wondered when he'd gotten there, "Did you reach them?" The clear note of fear was sharp in his voice and it might have warmed her if she were any less terrified.

"No. Voicemail." She listened to Jim let out a string of curses and found she fully agreed with his sentiment.

The older man turned on Harvey, jabbing a finger into the other man's padded chest with a vengeance, "You should have told me!" Jim yelled, almost in Harvey's face, and the others took a step back, "They are our best intel on Waller! She gets them and our case is dead!"

"So they get brought in! So what? It's where they should be, where criminals belong! How do you even know they're on the level, Jim?" Harvey snapped back like a barking dog, "Just 'cause they told you what you wanted to hear doesn't mean they're on the level any more than the freak in the Bat outfit playing hero!"

"Because Waller will kill them!" Jim very nearly howled, "She won't bring them in! They know too much! She already shot Wayne to pieces on the bridge with witnesses and News coverage! What makes you think she would hesitate when just her own people are watching?"

"Wayne really did get shot?" Montoya seemed surprised, but so did the rest of them.

"We can continue this later." Batwoman cut in, unable to focus on anything but getting to John, "I need to get to them before Waller does."

A thump to the left had Batwoman instantly on alert, batarang drawn before the door to the roof was fully kicked open.

Brooke's stomach dropped to the rain-drenched floor as Harley stepped from the darkened doorway. She looked the same as ever, really; dark, twisted, and sinister, aside from an ominous collar around her neck that struck Brooke as similar to an inmate ankle monitor.

"Well, well, well. What's all this then?" Harley crooned, "A bat and a walking mustache. Are we havin' a meetin' here?" She stuck out her lower lip and urged her voice into false dejection, "How come I wasn't invited?"

"You escaped!" Batwoman snarled, shifting into a stance entirely too painful, but she held it anyway.

The woman huffed a laugh, watching them all move on the offensive, "You got it all wrong Batty. After all, I'm one of you all now." With a flourish, she produced a thin ID badge on a retractable lanyard, something similar to what she likely had in Arkham.

"What?" Harvey yelped, eloquent as always.

"I don't know what kind of stunt you're trying to pull-" Gordon snapped, but Harley cut him off.

"Put the guns away, don't worry," Harley simpered, voice lilting and almost sweet, "I've got an ID and everything, proving I'm on your side now. One of the good guys, you know? Agency business and all."

Jim fairly withered, covering his face with one hand, "Oh, for the love of God! We don't have time for this!"

Harley couldn't have been more amused, "Well, make time, copper. You all work for me now." She jutted out a hip, "But don't worry, I'm just here to have a chat with the big, bad, Bat!"

"I don't care what kind of deal you made with Waller, Harley. None of it makes a difference to me, you're still a criminal and you are going back to a cell." Batwoman rumbled.

Her attention focused in on Brooke, "You should care! Waller says you've been a bad girl. Says you might be a problem, hindering the investigation. If you are, well, let's say I've been authorized to show you some discipline, strictly in the name of the law...you know, seeing as you're a criminal 'n all " She slapped her anvil against her palm, "Vigilantism is against the law, you know?"

"Even Waller isn't crazy enough to turn you lose!" Jim hissed through grit teeth.

"No, no, it's perfectly above board," she settled a hand over her heart, "I swear it."

"What exactly do you want, Harley?" Batwoman asked hotly.

"Not me, Bat, it's our mutual employer. You've been stepping out on her, 'n she wants you to - how did she put it - come to heel!" Harley's eyes were sharp, feral.

"I don't work for Waller." There was hardly a point in being anything but blunt.

"That's probably what's eatin' her then!" Harley laughed too loud, "See, she's got some demands."

"I'm not interested in hearing them," Batwoman announced abruptly, sending a batarang into the wall by the woman's head as a warning.

Haley glared, upper lip curling, "She thought you might not be amicable, but I tried! I tried diplomacy but I figured you wouldn't listen. Which is why Waller says it's time to clean up the Gotham pest problem." Her eyes turned to the others, "So stand aside, fellow associates...or... I can't be held responsible for what might happen to ya!"

More than likely this was a stalling tactic to keep her away from John. If they could keep her at bay, they must have assumed they could get John and the virus, which was not going to happen. She needed to make this encounter quick and hopefully painless, she'd have to save her strength for the Agency. There was bound to be a fight waiting for her there.

Harley's hammer began to crackle with electric current but Batwoman did not wait to be charged, she forged ahead. Dashing out, away from Gordon and the others, she made toward the side. Harley let out a battle cry, racing at her, hammer pulled back for a hard swing.

Batwoman let her get close before she dropped, kicking out both feet to catch Harley in the gut. The blow was stunning, pitching her and her hammer forward, but the hammer flew wide, missing entirely before Batwoman hooked her feet around Harley's neck and sent her flying right over the side and off the rooftop.

In a quick, fluid motion that hurt almost enough to make her double over if not for the presence of witnesses and the need to be swift, she jumped to her feet and unhooked the grapple gun from her belt. The grapple coiled around Harley's foot seconds before her head would have connected with the ground. It wouldn't have been quite that close if her injury hadn't made her flinch, but even so, the issue was resolved.

She caught Harley, exactly as she intended. There was no time for anything else, thus the rather risky move. Still, she'd been certain she could catch the other woman, and she had. Harley was less than pleased and she swung like a pendulum of a grandfather clock, screaming curses at the top of her lungs.

In a few seconds, Harley was strung up, attached to the rain-drenched roof, and Brooke was gliding away, desperately trying to avoid noticing the sharp, radiating pain. The pain was inconsequential in the current situation. She absolutely had to get to John before Waller's people did. Nothing else really mattered besides racing the clock.

* * *

When she sailed in, silent and obscured from sight, she spotted the cars already in location. A hand to the hood of the nearest vehicle proved it to still be warm, engine ticking as it cooled in the rainy night air. They eat her but not by very much. If John was hiding they very well might not have found him yet. The agents she saw were milling about, not in a particular hurry. That either meant they already had John or they were simply searching the area, unaware it was indeed a correct address.

They had weapons drawn and at the ready, blue rather than red, set to stun rather than kill. It was a relatively good sign as far as that went. Deadly force might not have actually been authorized just yet. They might have decided they needed them alive in order to procure the virus from whatever location it had been hidden. As that was likely the case, perhaps all was not lost. John was something of an expert with escaping so she might not have anything to worry about at all.

She crouched low behind the cars, using the shadows as cover, feeling every single muscle in her upper body protest vehemently, spasming particularly around the bullet wound. With a particular vehemence, she ignored the painful protestation of her body, eyeing the surroundings to gauge her best options to get inside when her comm buzzed in her ear. A distinct sense of gleeful relief washed over her when she recognized the source.

"John, where are you?" She hissed the whisper, coming off as angry rather than frantic.

"Um, about that? Yeah, so, here's the thing!" John sounded nervous, even guilty.

"Just tell me where you are!" She snapped, not even sure why the relief was coming out as irritation now that she knew for certain he was at least alive.

"Well, well! Look what we have here!" A deep, familiar, chilling voice cut over her awareness of anything John might have just answered.

Batwoman whirled to face the hulking, shadowed outline of a man she last recalled should be in custody, preferably heavily medicated, "Bane!"

"What!?" John yelped in her ear.

"What are you doing out of Blackgate?" Batwoman had no time to answer John, not with Bane a few yards away.

She was in no condition to fight Bane, none at all. It was an impossibility, going head to head with him when she was limited in mobility already. She could not face him today, she knew that, but she just might not have any other choice. That was two enemies outside a cage she had met in one night, which could hardly be coincidental, she was sure. Waller was pulling out all the stops on this. Facing Bane was the last thing she needed in the world but she did not have an easy escape, no roof to toss him off of and dangle there. Fighting him might well be her only option, poor and doomed as that might be.

"Bats?! What's going on?" John sounded as frantic as she had felt the moment Bullock listed that address.

* * *

I struggled with this chapter a lot! Changed my mind fifteen times about how I wanted it to go. Plus, if you follow me on tumblr (yes, I'm still there, they will have to kill me before they get me off) you might have seen my status update about the TTB fic and my stressful life, so I apologize for the delay! I'm very stressed and stressed me is not good with writing and updates.


	13. Chapter 13

Poor Batwoman is in no mood for this. I like tired, done-with-all-this hero's, because I feel that in my bones.

Also, you will see your first look at what I did to Joker! Or, how I would like things, let's say?

* * *

Batwoman staggered, boots slipping on the wet pavement as she slid along the wall of a building, struggling not to topple to the filthy ground under the weight of her own suit. Bane was not far behind, most likely, but she had a scant few seconds to take a breath. She could not afford to stop moving but she was too drained to run. Breathing was increasingly difficult as she may well have undone some healing. Substantially, no doubt. The damp, oozing warmth against the skin on her left side was not rainwater, after all.

She had been tossed around like a pinball, picked up and thrown like a rag doll. Apparently, Harley was not the only one given an upgrade by Waller's technicians. Bane was stronger than ever, veins bulging huge and green, looking more Frankenstein's monster than man. He sported a collar around his neck like she had but Bane had not been alone. Waller clearly did not trust Bane as much as she did Harley.

Batwoman, for all purposes, had been the fox to the hound hunt. The agents had circled, guns ready, penning her in with their new weapon, not allowing her to move far to evade his violent advances.

Fortuitously, it was Bane himself that afforded her the chance to escape, though she doubted it had been his intent at the moment. As he had been throwing her body around like a cat with a mouse, he ended up tossing her high enough that she got her wings under her and glided over their heads and onto a building.

They chased her like the hounds she currently likened them to, Bane baying for another taste of her blood. She scrambled over rooftops, staying out of reach until Bane punched a hole directly through a building, crumbling the roof out from under her and forcing her to the ground. She was good at vanishing though, always had been, even when she was young, hiding in dark corners or up in the rafters at her school when the children interested only in her name and how to raise their status by being her friend had gotten too oppressive. Disappearing had always been a skill, one she desperately needed in all stages of her life.

Her head ached, pounding with the beats of her heart and pounding harder if she came anywhere close to bending over. The more she moved the higher the pain shot. It made her feel sick like she might vomit if she was not careful, but she knew that would make things worse both with pain and aggravating injuries.

She steeled herself, taking a shallow breath, but as deep of one as she could manage, before plunging forward, leaving the cover of the alley. Moving in the open made her vulnerable but she could not stay in one place forever, she had to move forward.

Using parked cars as cover, darting from one object to the next, she made her way forward. She could not lead them to any of their hideouts, could not risk them trailing her to any of her safe places. Instinct told her to head for known, safe, secure places she was familiar with but that could prove detrimental at best, particularly if they knew any of those usual haunts. If they knew any of her hiding spots they would already be waiting there for her, ready to pounce. She could trap herself so easily if she was not careful.

What she needed was the most unsafe place to hide, somewhere they would never consider, somewhere no one in their right mind would go. There was one place nearby that fit that description and there was no doubt going to Riddler's former accommodation was reckless. She knew, even after teams had gone over it, they had not been able to disable all the traps, nor even find them all as they had been set by a deranged, paranoid, lunatic, but desperate times always called for desperate measures. It was a saying for a reason.

"Pssst!" An urgent male voice called in a stage whisper, "Batwoman!"

She tensed, ready for yet another battle, hardening her resolve to endure, but the man peeking out at her from behind the fence looked... like a clown. Literally. He was wearing face paint in a clear pattern you only found at a circus. It was not for that reason she found herself moving closer, it was because she knew the man under the paint. He was Willy, the... she guessed he was friends with John. While she would not say she considered him a friendly face, he was familiar.

Batwoman straightened her posture, ignoring the spike in pain that caused, but well aware she could not appear vulnerable in front of others. Carefully, she edged behind the fence, taking in the two additional clown figures with Willy, ones she did not recognize off hand.

The woman looked like one off those antique Raggedy Ann dolls and if that was her real hair, Brooke did not envy her when it came time to take it out of all those twists. Not to mention getting that kind of makeup off without staining the skin. There was no way she would not have to layer on concealer later to hide those patterns on her face. Perhaps these people did not hold down normal jobs and could get away with things like this on their faces because no one saw them.

"We gotta get out of here, there are agents crawling all over!" The woman offered in a hushed, jittery tone.

"No, it's safer to wait them out! Let them leave, then we go." The second man that looked like a rendition of a biker clown insisted.

Brooke honestly could not get her mind past one particular issue. Why exactly were they dressed like clowns? Of all things, why clowns? What possessed these people to put on bright oil makeup and clown attire when they clearly intended to hide? Who hid out, expected to blend in, expected to not to be very noticed, while in those outfits? What sort of twisted logic were they using? Also, when exactly had Willy, a seemingly normal barfly decided to join in? She was clearly missing something.

Could they all be high? She shook her head, mentally redirecting herself, knowing speculations like those could be saved for a better time. Them being in the area complicated her plans considerably and part of her wanted to simply walk away from the problem.

While she might have suggested they go inside to hide she really did not trust these particular individuals not to set something off in there and get themselves killed. The clown attire somehow did not stir within her a great amount of faith in their general sanity. If only she could leave them behind, but in good conscience, she could hardly do so with Bane in the vicinity. It was bad enough he was out there at all, let alone to knowingly let anyone wander alone. She doubted he cared much for clowns as he did not strike her as the type to enjoy traditional forms of slapstick that did not involve real injury and bloodshed.

Maybe she could lure Bane inside Riddler's and lock him in. If those traps would fail to kill anyone, it was sure to be Bane due to his size and general mass.

Honestly, she already felt exasperated.

"John will be here any second, we just have to wait," Willy informed them.

Her shoulders dropped instantly; partly with relief to hear he must be fine and a bigger part because she could simply not believe John would be dumb enough to run into a zone crawling with Agents. Well, no, that was a blatant lie, she could believe it only too well. Running into danger was very much his style and it was hardly a point that did not hold contention for her. He did not even have her type of protection! Not a strip of Kevlar to his name. If he did not get killed on the way over she just might wring his neck once he got there.

"Alright," a voice she recognized from multiple talks with the Agency barked into the quite of their little hollow, "nobody move!"

Batwoman's shoulders dropped another notch until she drew them back up properly, cursing inwardly and profusely as she turned and made the effort to cut an intimidating figure, "Stand down, Agent." She commanded in a growl, fighting off yet another wave of pain.

She needed to down the threat quickly, now more than ever If John was on his way. She could not have them anywhere near him! Not that being found was ever ideal to start with but it was far more complex the more people that were added to the mixture, particularly John as he was their main target. Waller was petty like that, not taking defeat by someone she considered "lesser" than herself with any particular grace. Waller's views on the value and human life were rather twisted so it was hardly a surprise she could not see how understated John's brilliance was; the woman was outclassed and did not even realize it.

She would not let them touch John.

"I've been ordered to-"

She did not let him finish, had no time or patience to talk him down, instead, she tossed out a stunner to send jolts of electricity through his body to temporarily nullify him. As expected, he crumpled to the ground without a drop of grace or control, twitching and unconscious, thankfully silent. The gun went skating over the pavement, passing her by. While she had no intentions of picking up the gun, the other woman snatched it up instantly, tucking it away into a pocket in her baggy pants.

Staring after the gun, she debated insisting it be turned over to her but at this point, she did not have the energy to care, nor the will to protest. At least the gun had other settings beyond lethal force. There were other things to worry about. She should take it though, she should. She didn't.

"You need to move." Batwoman told them, hoping it would inspire them to do as she asked, "They will follow when he doesn't return. You can't be here when they arrive."

"But John's on his way!" Willy protested, adamant as ever, like he honestly cared about John. Maybe they really did care, they were there, after all.

"He sent us over to look for you!" The woman offered, "When we couldn't find you, he told us to meet him here to regroup."

"But now we've got you so we can all just get out of here! Once he's here." The third man put in.

Batwoman was in no mood for any of this, not used to working around anyone but Alfred or Jim, "I'll wait for John. The three of you need to get out the way you came." She turned her back on them, crouching down with no delight in order to swipe the Agent's fried communication devices and something that looked like a GPS.

Bending down was not at all pleasant for her injuries but standing again was equally as painful and she grit her teeth hard enough to hear them creak in her skull.

"We can't just leave you here, John wanted us to find you!" The woman insisted, somehow distressed.

She held in a sigh as it would hurt more than it was worth, "You found me. You've done your job." To soothe whatever worry they had, she added, "I will tell John you alerted me to his arrival."

Willy waggled a phone in the air, "I already texted him."

Then why were they betting stubborn? She tried not to grit her teeth, "Then you're finished here."

They did not instantly leave so it was not as good a dismissal as she hoped. To further her point, she folded her arms over her chest, ignoring the pain in favor of intimidation.

She could see them wavering as a collective, unsure whether to follow the direction of a scary woman in black bat armor or their dear friend John. Surprisingly, it seemed to be a bit more difficult than she thought it would be for them. They dithered, exchanging glances, silently asking each other what to do.

They could not stay with her, not in the last location the agent had likely reported searching. At this point, it was more dangerous for them to be there than it was to send them out alone. Batwoman and John were the real targets anyway. She would not leave so long as John was on his way but that did not mean they needed to be placed in danger while she allowed herself to be a sitting duck.

She could be soothing, could thank them for their diligence, or she could tell them to get lost. She could snarl and bark orders to frighten them away easily enough, which was the most appealing option.

"Thank you for your time and diligence. I can take it from here. John will appreciate all you've done." Ah, diplomacy.

Maybe if her head had not been pounding so loud she would have heard someone coming around the corner in her blind spot before she felt the stinging, hot jolt of electricity burning through her body. Her joints locked with the first and second shot from the agency's stun guns. The third blast had black creeping in around the edges of her vision and her knees buckled, sending her roughly to her knees.

They weren't using lethal force so they wanted her alive. Even past the cloud of pain, she could deduce that. It was smart, bringing her down first, incapacitating her as she was the biggest threat. She would also serve as a marvelous bargaining chip against John. By now Waller had to know they were close, she had to have guessed that much.

Batwoman grit her teeth, trying to breathe around the swelling nauseous and the white-hot remnants of pain, her muscles twitching against her will.

There was another sound, the sound of a shot and Batwoman braced for the pain, braced for another onslaught. Nothing additional came, no more than she had felt before.

A man dropped flat on his back in front of her, then another to her right, and she had a moment to wonder why until she noticed the woman. The clown attire did not hide her snarl or the anger behind it as she held the gun steady, ready for new targets that were bound to arrive.

"Pigs!" The woman hissed, and Brooke was reminded of Harley in a rather unpleasant way.

With another shallow breath, Batwoman forced herself to stand and face what was coming. There were more agents rushing in the opening of the fence, weapons swinging out and up. The clown woman let go another shot and she only had a moment to hope the gun was not set to kill before further pandemonium broke out even as she felt a fresh jolt of that distinct, terrible pain brought on by those electric rounds.

She reached into her belt with fresh determination to fell her opponents before John walked into the middle of it. A flick of her wrist planted a Batstunner on a woman's chest and another in her partner's. Another shock hit her, arching electrical current through her yet again, stealing her breath from her.

Something bounced loudly at her feet as she locked her knees in order to stay upright, and the potential of it being a bomb should have been a distraction from the pain, but she fleetingly thought she might welcome a bomb. Stubbornness, only stubbornness, allowed her to ignore the spasms in the ruined muscles all through her torso and she managed a glance at a round purple object with a painted nightmarish smile like she had seen in the funhouse on its side before everything turned purple.

Of all things, purple smoke spewed into the air. Even as she decked out the nearest confused agent with an elbow to his temple, she could not help feeling she knew who the smoke belonged to. It had all the markings of someone that listened to her and learned her tricks but had ample enough personality not to simply copy her exactly.

If she had any doubt at all it was quelled by the pitchy laughter emitting from a swinging shadow that descended into the middle of the growing cloud like an apparition.

"Who's hunting WHO, now?" John cackled, his voice as menacing as she had ever heard it, husky with thrumming anger. "Guess it's time for a little _justice_ for a change, huh?"

Batwoman made for the clowns, downing an agent ready to fire on Willy before he could get the shot off. Her head was spiraling and it was getting harder to focus her eyes on much of anything even as agents screamed and cursed amid the colored haze.

She caught sight of a figure, patterned purple trench coat marking his silhouette while the tattered tails of a scarf billowed behind him as he _stalked_ his prey, steps one over the other in a silent dance. When he turned, under the brim of a purple fedora, she caught sight of an enormous, gruesome imitation of a smile painted over the front of the scarf that served to cover the lower portion of his face. He looked more like a monster from some nightmare than anything else, but she would have known him anywhere, with or without a clear line of sight. It was John.

He was enough to frighten children and most sane, self-preserving, intelligent adults as well. A little deleterious, even as she hit an agent near John with a batarang, all she could think of was how glad she was that he thought to hide his face. They could probably guess who he was, it was less of a stretch and more of a small step in logic, but it was something.

What he needed was something to change his voice. He would probably sound menacing, like something from a bad dream with a lower voice, and if people were not afraid of a bat, then they surely would be a clown. She thought she might understand the joke now, the reason the other three were dressed as they were. It needed a little work but she'd seen worse.

John eased himself in front of her and she could see his eyes peeking at her from under the hat, his smile was not hard to imagine even with the monstrous imitation hiding it, "Honey, I'm home!"

He glanced at the others even as he moved just that much closer to her, "Willy, Frank, Lauren! Thanks for hanging in there, but what do you say we blow this Popsicle stand while we can?"

She paid no attention to what they said, only starred over John's shoulder at the stirring agents, bedraggled though they were, they also seemed alive. "We need to go before they bring in more." Also, before she vomited, but she left that out.

When John coiled an arm around her middle she did not protest, let him pull her to his chest even when he pulled out some dog toothed version of her grapple gun and hurled them into the air with it. She would not have had an easy time with her own gun anyway, not as shaky as she was after the blood loss and the stunners. If she had the energy she would even have returned his embrace in a more active way than resting her chin on his shoulder. It was all she could do not to close her eyes, but she refused to allow herself such a pitiful escape.

Their escape ended a few rooftops away, but far enough from the Riddler's hideout to be safe. As safe as they could be without knowing Bane's exact location, at least. Harley should be back in lockup with the GCPD, unless the Agency had already let her out, which was possible. Hopefully, they would not run into either of the former Pact members until they were ready. Though she dreaded explaining any of those aspects of the situation to John. She was well aware he still worried over Harley. Truthfully, after her encounter with the two, she worried about them as well. What Waller was doing was considerably more than unethical.

She needed to contact Jim and she needed to find out everything she could from the devices she had stolen and the files the officers stole for her. If she could sink whatever new program the Agency had with those criminals, things would considerably improve. There were laws about doing things like that to human beings. Bane looked like he crawled out of an evil laboratory. There were laws for a good reason. Human experimentation was not in any way legal and Waller would find that out if it was the last thing Brooke did.

That was a problem for later, though. For now, she was with John and she needed to keep her focus on staying with him. She was privately amazed by how well John had both learned to recreate her tools as well as use them properly. He used his gun and even moved almost exactly the way she did. He must have been watching her considerably longer than she thought. Even the way he landed each time was similar to her own, even if having her body so close encumbered his movements.

"What did they do to you, buddy?" He asked her as they crouched together on a rooftop, John sliding all the way to the ground with her when her balance faltered.

"It's nothing. I'm just tired, I need a minute and then I'll be fine." She assured him, wishing she felt a little less like death, "I only need to call Alfred and he can patch me up."

"Are you sure he'll be able to come?" John asked nervously.

"I'm sure he'll be able to give them the slip."

John was tense and she could see the worry lines around his eyes as he watched her breathe, "Maybe we should go back to Dr. Strange. He could-"

"Alfred will be fine, I'm not hurt that badly." She put in quickly.

He did not look particularly convinced, not even after she made the call to Alfred, but he also did not press her. He might not believe her but unless she fell into unconsciousness he was unlikely to force the issue.

"So... you've got a new look?" She said by way of distracting him.

That did it.

He beamed, eyes nearly lighting up to glow at her, "Awesome, right! You'd be amazed what you can find in thrift stores. But also on mannequins in fancy stores when no one's looking."

"It certainly makes an impression." She agreed, still looking to keep him talking.

"Well, I was aiming for, uh Batwoman... but me! Dark and scary! Like my best bud. But also flashy and fun!" He giggled, "It finally feels like... the right skin. And I've got a new name - a better one than John Doe - to go with it!"

"What name?"

She had a feeling he would have struck a pose if he had not been huddled on the ground, "Jokester! Or Joker, depending on which is easier to say in a pinch. Maybe Jokes for short, only for friends? Something like that, you know? The others I thought of were a bit too long to really say and didn't have quite the intimidating ring I was looking for." He babbled.

Brooke had to smile, soft and fond at the way he prattled on and on, "I like it."

Then he was really glowing, "Really? I mean, I didn't want to copy you and go with a bat sort of name, that would be a bit too obvious, you know? We don't want to sound totally alike or we might never know who anyone is talking to."

"I like it." She repeated, "It suits you. It's very intimidating. Though we do need to hook you up with a voice modulator."

John cackled, "So I can have a really deep, scary voice?"

"That, and to be sure no one recognizes your real voice. We don't want anyone getting ideas about your secret once you start work at Wayne Enterprise and become well known."

He nodded sagely, "Right! I had not thought of that! We can't have that! Secret identities are key to fitting in with normal people."

One persona or another would also need a wig, most likely. Green hair was a rather distinct feature and that would tie a little too easily to John so they would have to work on that. She also would very much like to get a nice inlay of armor into that suit as soon as possible as it would serve to protect him as well as alter his general posture and figure. Alterations were a rather key thing when people were being kept out of the know in addition to warring images. The more Batwoman and Jokester were seen together and Brooke was seen with John, the more they would need to alter the way they appeared.

There was an intense amount of detail to his new clothes, right down to the bit of bright green thread he worked into the coat at some of the seams. Everything was hand detailed, it was obvious, which was impressive. Though she was going to make sure that the missing button on the vest was fixed soon, it drove her a little crazy. John was forever missing a button on something. Regardless, he had done a wonderful job. The gadgets were rather impressive too and were obviously inspired by her own, but they were indeed unique to his style.

"You've put a lot of time into this, haven't you?" He had to have been working on it whenever she was sleeping, keeping it all hidden when she was awake so she would not see it all. Not that she had been moving around that much before today in order to notice.

"Well sure! I had to be up to standard if I was going to be your new partner!" He told her with innocent certainty.

She forced herself not to react, at least not outwardly. That declaration was a little jarring to hear, something she never considered. Though, at this rate, it probably was safer if they stuck together. Things had not exactly gone well while they were apart. They could work with it until things were resolved and negotiate later.

She should have anticipated such a thing, him jumping into a self-appointed role. Tiffany had done the same, really, designed her own hero gear, so why would John be any different?

"Why am I only hearing about this now?" She went with.

He was smirking, she could tell, even if she could not see it, "You would have wanted me to stay back, but I knew if you saw me in action, if I showed you what I could do, you'd see I can help you! We can be partners, cleaning up this town together! Jokester... Joker and Batwoman, heroes of Gotham!"

The moment was altered, the air around both of them shifting when the communication unit on her arm alerted to a call, the identification belonging to none other than Amanda Waller.

Brooke glanced at John, "I'm going to answer."

He cocked his head to the side, a little confused, "Alright?"

"Whatever you do, don't say anything. She can't know we've found each other yet. She will think she has more leverage than she really does so it might put her off. The less she knows, the better. I want to keep her in the dark."

"Alright, I won't make a sound! Promise!" He assured her easily.

"Not a word, John!" She warned.

He rolled his eyes, "I won't, I won't!"

With a promise extracted, she picked up the call, "Waller."

"Batwoman." She returned, "I'll make this conveniently short. I want John Doe and the virus in two hours."

"Not happening," Batwoman answered instantly.

"You didn't let me finish. Refusal will mean that I go public with your identity. I don't wanna burn you down, Brooke, but I will."

Brooke wished she was surprised by the tactic, "If you do that, you've lost your hold over me. I will have no reason to listen to a word you say. I could cut and run, leaving you with nothing to show for all of this." John looked at her sadly, worried and unsure.

"You won't leave Gotham." Waller countered.

"I'd do what I had to." Batwoman hissed, "If you leave me no choice, you might be surprised what I do."

Waller shifted tactics, "You aren't thinking about this clearly enough, Batwoman! Think about what could happen! You have a lot of enemies; if they find out who you are, every thug, mob boss, drug dealer, or killer - not to mention their families, friends, and associates you screwed over - they _all_ know where you live! Just think what that might change about your monthly visits to Cobblepot and Dent once word got out, right?"

"Waller!" Batwoman grit her teeth to keep herself from actively screaming. That was a particularly low blow.

Amanda did not hesitate to continue, "Moreover, all these criminals know where you work and I bet you get more than just one bomb next time! And say you ran? You're forgetting an important thing. Your enemies will also know who you love. How long do you think Tiffany and Alfred will survive that kind of heat?"

The growl rumbling in her throat was joined by John's, "Don't push me, Waller!" Brooke snapped, "You don't want me as a real enemy! I run in circles that are out of your league!"

"Likewise! You have no idea what I could really do to you!" Waller sounded so smug and it made her forget the pain the way nothing else had.

"You aren't as powerful as you think you are. I could show you what a Wayne is really capable of!" Her voice was low and menacing, added depth given by the modulator, "You can't be trusted with something like the virus. You're corrupt, the type that let's power go to your head, gets corrupted with every spec you gain until you're nothing but darkness and compromise in the name of whatever your cause is. You are dirty and self-serving. I've seen what you did to the others, and if you think I'll hand you John to do that same thing to, you're insane! You may have no problem turning on an ally, but I have more honor than that! You get John when I'm cold and on a slab."

The woman laughed, "Idealistic, cute. But I already have more of your friends in my pocket than you think. Loyalty is meaningless when I've got a collar around their necks." Waller said with more confidence than was comforting.

"You're lying!" Her heart was beating considerably faster as she went through everyone she had seen recently, mentally cataloging their last known location and status. It could not be Alfred considering he was on his way to her, encased in the Batmobile. Tiffany was safe inside the cave. She saw Gordon not long ago and his neck was free.

"Think what you like, but I'm holding all the cards. I've had you since I came to Gotham. It's time to stop this foolishness and get back into line with the rest of the team. You'll submit, either peacefully, or with my boot on your neck."

Brooke was seething but she thought John might actually be vibrating with outrage. She cut the call before John could say anything, or before he exploded and ruined their cover. After all, the woman went to a lot of trouble to be sure they were apart, at least seemingly that was a side goal of hers.

"How dare she talk to you like that!" He shouted the second the call was done, "She wants the virus so badly, I'll put it in her shampoo! See how she likes it! I'd like to see her melt!"

Rather than feed into his anger, she moved the conversation along, "Waller won't stop coming after you until she has the virus. Obviously, we can't give it to her." Batwoman sighed the way she wanted to all night but it did her no more favors than she expected, "We need to destroy it tonight, as soon as possible."

"I thought you wanted more tests to be sure we could counter it if they figured out how to remake it or if they got anything out of Freeze." John still had not let go of the boiling rage but he was at least coherent enough to listen.

"We have enough and we're out of time. We have to keep people safe, which we can't do if Waller gets her hands on an active sample."

"We need to do a heck of a lot more than keeping it away from her! We need to bring her down, topple her kingdom. Hard." John growled, eyes focused over her head like he was trying to see the woman in the distance.

"We will, but not until we have enough evidence to do it. Before that, we prioritize and keep things away from her so she can't hurt anyone."

"We could always... take her down another way. A more permanent way. She can't tell anyone your secret if she's... not able."

Brooke stiffened, feeling the pain of it, but sensing her own dread far more, "No, John. You do something like that and you cross a line you can't come back from.

"Oh, come on, Bats! Don't tell me it wouldn't solve our biggest problems! You'd be safe! You can't tell me you believe she'll _ever_ let you go? Not now that she got you on a leash! You heard her!"

If she could cross her arms, she would have, "Heroes don't resort to murder to solve their problems."

"But it's so effective!" He protested instantly.

"So we take her power, free her puppets, get our own leverage! We don't kill her!"

He was back to growling, "I don't like it! She needs to be punished for what she's doing, watching her get away with it! It just makes me so... angry!"

"I know, John. It makes me angry too, but... you can't let it consume you. Anger and rage, hate, it all eats you up from the inside. It changes you, not them. Holding onto hate, as the saying goes, is like drinking poison and expecting the person you hate to die from it. Hate doesn't hurt the other person, it hurts you. We have to be the better person, be better than they are or we risk becoming just like them, just like the person we fixate on."

John let out a sigh, still agitated but deflating a little, "Right."

"We have to control our darker impulses. It's part of being a hero. If we resorted to their methods, we become the same. Doing bad things in the name of good... it's a slippery hill." She reached a hand up to cup his face through his mask, "Believe me, I understand the anger, but we can't let it rule us."

He lifted his own hand to settle over the top of hers, linking their fingers, "I know. It's hero stuff, being the good guy. But it's hard! Though, Dr. Leland said I had trouble letting things go. Known issue."

"Knowing you have a problem is half the battle." She smiled gently, hoping to soothe, "And she would be proud of how well you are doing, you know. I'm proud of you too. You're a good man, John, a very good man."

John's eyes got a little glassy before he closed them and leaned down, pressing what she thought was a kiss to the ear of her cowl, something like a silent promise or declaration she could not decipher the meaning of. Still, it felt good, like it was offered in love.

John did love her, she knew that much, but unfortunately not as much as he loved Harley. She resigned herself to that fact, to being in the other woman's shadow forever. It was exactly why she would do all she could to keep him as far away from Harley as possible. There was enough hurt and betrayal there already. Harley wasn't good for him anyway.

"There's nothing I won't do for you." John told her quietly, whispering it intimately into her receptor, not a drop of insincerity in his voice, "You know that, don't you?"

It felt a little like being shocked again but in a slightly less painful way. It still terrified her when he said things like that. The pledge was a little more than she thought she was ready for, that degree of devotion was too intense.

The rumble of an engine pulling up below them caught both their attention, breaking them out of their conversing. She had no idea what she would have responded anyway. What words would have been sufficient?

John helped her to her feet and lowered them down into the back alleyway where Alfred was waiting.

Alfred seemed well enough, more color in his face, no sign Waller had gotten to him. It was good to know Tiffany had been taking good care of him, probably better care than Brooke herself ever offered.

Even under the hat, she could see John's frown when she stumbled, the toe of her boot catching on something, "Easy," he whispered.

"I'm fine." She assured both John and Alfred, but they simply frowned harder at her like that could burn holes in her.

"We need to go back to the cave and finish this. The virus must be destroyed tonight!" Brooke told them to brush aside whatever they might say.

"No, you need patching up and rest." Alfred started firmly.

"I just rested. I don't have time for more." Brooke shook her head, "A few bandages and I'll be good as new."

"Somehow, I find that doubtful." Alfred leveled her with an arch look.

"Waller wants me to hand over the virus in two hours or she goes public. It's going to have to be enough." Batwoman informed him, truly too weary of the subject to offer better.

"I see. Then we best get cracking." Alfred sounded chipper but it rang false.

* * *

Batwoman climbed swiftly out of the car the moment it stopped, energized by her need to flee. Generally, the fatherly look was saved for things unrelated to men and instead related to the mask. Today had not been that day. Though really, Alfred should have been thankful he had never needed to give her that look before as far as dating went considering every date she had ever been on had been fake. She never held interest in the boy toys she trotted out for the cameras. Those Alfred usually picked for her based on what would fit best into her supposed social standing, he practically ran her personal dating service, vetting them out for her. He saved that fatherly look for the one time she might actually have fallen in love.

It had been some kind of drive, one she hoped to never repeat again in her lifetime. As she technically let Alfred drive, she more or less shared the other seat with John, partially in his lap, which might have been the main issue as Alfred had never really seen them interact, at least not closely. While the proximity to John, him being very much in her space did not bother her normally, sitting that way while Alfred could see somehow made it considerably awkward even though Alfred never verbally pointed anything out. He did have those British manners, thankfully.

John spent the majority of the ride talking up Alfred, oblivious to the awkwardness of addressing her father figure while his arms were around her and his head rested somewhat on her shoulder. John fairly fawned over Alfred and his accent, deeming him, of all things, cute. She was fairly sure John adored her butler to unhealthy measures for only really having met him once or twice. He sounded more like a stalker than anything when he talked about the pictures he kept, and that might have been the biggest reason Alfred kept giving her the side eye. When it was phrased the way poor, oblivious John was putting it, it did sound rather bad. She found herself formulating responses to the inevitable talk she was going to get about that subject.

She was only too happy to arrive at their destination and make for the Batcomputer and Tiffany. If nothing else, Tiffany was at least safe as far as that went, hopefully.

John, or Jokester followed on her heels, mask pulled down off his face, head swiveling frantically in all directions to absorb it all at once. His eyes were round as plates, enamored and enthralled. He looked like he had just been a witness to an event so monumental it only occurred once a century. As excited as he had been about riding in the car, she should have guessed he would be floored by this new revelation.

"We're in the Batcave? The real one?" John asked, not exactly skeptical, but seemingly unable to grasp the concept.

"Yes, John, we are." She said simply.

"You have an actual _bat-cave_?!" He pointed upward, grinning like mad, bouncing on his toes, "With _real_ bats!"

"What else would they be? Plastic bats?" Tiffany called down from her place at the computer chair.

"Don't be so blase about it now, Tiffany," Alfred chastised, walking past them to ready whatever supplies he would need once Brooke got around to letting him work on her, "You were practically buzzing about this cave yourself once you found out about it. I believe you pointed out the irony and the reality of Brooke's secret identity in relation to this."

Tiffany spun her chair around, "Fine, fine, it's a nice setup and it fits really well with your general dark, brooding self." She smirked, "What else could any of us have expected from the doom and gloom cloud of night terrors?"

Brooke removed her headpiece, setting the cowl aside in order to glare better at the girl, "Thanks for that."

"Any time!" Tiffany cheerfully informed.

Brooke waved aside any further banter and leaned against the counter to be sure she did not tip over. Alfred might need to give her some of that blood they kept around for emergencies after he patched her up, "We've got to destroy the virus immediately. Do you think you have enough information to develop some sort of counter between you and Alfred?"

John eased in at Brooke's side like he intended to prop her up, looking at the computer like he would have a lost artifact of history, or maybe a stack of gold. It was rather cute and amusing to see him so enamored with everything and she would bet a large sum that he could not wait to get his hands on the computers, but that could be saved for later.

Tiffany shrugged, "Yeah, I think we can swing it from everything we have now. Alfred made a cure for the last thing you were injected with so together we should be able to swing this. At least we have enough to try it out once you figure out where your old pal is, and if he survived this long."

Brooke took in a deep breath, willing the nausea away, simply thankful she had taken the pain pills she kept in the car, "I believe Freeze could survive it, and if he did, we need a cure for him, if it is at all possible. We do not need another case like Riddler." She regretted letting the name slip instantly as she watched Tiffany's walls go up, her eyes darkening and closing off.

"No, we don't." She agreed, turning back to the computer and away from them in general.

Brooke pulled the devices stolen from the agent from the compartment in her belt, and the files from the inner lining, crumpled though the papers were now, "I think we should be able to glean that information from these, obtaining leverage over Waller and taking away her firepower at once."

"Waller is threatening to out Brooke in two hours if we don't give her what she wants!" John put in helpfully, that anger surfacing again.

Brooke tried to redirect it again at Tiffany's sharp glance, "Gordon and his team put together what information they could gather and I obtained an Agent's phone and other devices tonight. Whatever we get from these should give us something to track their recent movements. From there we can calculate the most likely places they would feasibly be able to detain Freeze and the others." She had not told John everything, not about Harley, though she had told he and Alfred about Bane on the drive to redirect what she could of the conversation. "If we gain enough evidence we can hold something over her in return."

"Don't you think you'll need more than that?" Tiffany mostly refused to look at anything but the computer and what was in Brooke's hands.

"I have someone I can call as well who might be able to offer something," Brooke admitted.

"You have someone on the inside?" John asked gleefully, clasping his hands.

"Yes, but everything we can get is that much more power we take from Waller." Brooke tried not to growl the woman's name.

Tiffany nodded, running her hand along the papers to work out the wrinkles before she skimmed them quickly with her eyes. She did a quick check of the devices while Brooke and John watched her examine it all in silence. Tiffany was quick and efficient, skilled just like her father, and in a few seconds, she had the enemy technology unlocked and set about gathering information from them to load on the Batcomputer.

"While that's loading," she shot to her feet, "I'll get everything ready to neutralize the virus."

"Thank you, Tiffany. I could not do this without you!" Brooke tried not to coo at her, tried not to act too mothering.

Tiffany shot her a half smile over her shoulder, "Don't lie, we both know you could! Flattery will get you only so far with me. But you know, thanks for feeding my ego and all."

She watched the girl go and wished there was a way to fix everything Lucius' involvement with her had done to hurt his family. She wished she had been considerably smarter, taken more precautions. She had plenty of regrets where it involved the Fox family. There was no way to go back but she would do whatever she could to help what was left of the family in the future. Not that it would fix the things that happened, atone or compensate for their loss, but it would be something.

Actually, she needed to see what she could do for them on every front, more than simply financially, and decidedly more than mentoring Tiffany. They probably needed a great many things and only some of those things would be within her power to provide.

John leaned closer, once she was out of hearing range, and whispered, "I bet it's rough. But then, you know better about that than most people."

Brooke breathed in again, "It always will be, but eventually she will learn how to handle it. The pain won't go away, but she will find ways to move on from it rather than let it eat her alive inside. Working with us will help with that."

"Is that why you took her under your wing? You're trying to be her Alfred to get her through it?" He asked, so curious and unassuming it was almost impossible to look at him. He seemed so innocent at times, unaware of the world and wise to it at once.

Alfred appeared almost out of thin air, very nearly wedging himself between them, "If you are finished I do believe it is well past time to tend to your likely extensive injuries, Miss Wayne. If you will please come see to your health for a change, it would be appreciated."

John outright cackled, "Alfred knows you too well! I bet you never were an easy one to fix up, were you?"

"She has always been a challenge." Alfred agreed, "Particularly when it comes to anything regarding self-preservation or self-care."

"I'll bet she'd keep right on walking even if she broke her leg." John shook his head in exasperation only matched by Alfred's sigh.

"She has before, I'm sorry to say. Nothing is ever terrible enough that she won't get back up and fight the next problem unless she is entirely unconscious."

Brooke wondered how it came to this. Though, at least they could agree and unite over one thing. They both knew how difficult she was and that seemed to be a general bonding experience for anyone that had ever tried to get her to sit on a medical examination table for longer than a few minutes. They had common ground though, and that was something. She would take it where she could get it.

Of course, John had to break the spell by kissing her on the cheek, "She's still great though!"

Alfred's shoulders were stiffer than they had been a moment ago, but then, Brooke was also a lot more tense, "That she is. If only she would take her medicine without argument, she might be near perfect." Alfred offered, an odd sort of war going on with his expression.

John slid his hand into hers and tugged her gently in the direction of the medical portion of the cave, "We'll work on her together, Alfred!" He said gleefully.

Brooke had little choice but to follow them then, hardly understanding how things could have gone the way that they had in her life. She wondered what Alfred was thinking as he looked between them, eyes flicking from examining one and then the other. If ever there was a time she wished she had the ability the read minds it was this moment.

* * *

So, about his clothing! Look up Joker Kai! I love his in game coat and belt, all that! But I need him to please have purple gloves, guys! We need gloves! Also, my biggest issue with any hero is if they DON'T HAVE A MASK YET EXPECT NO ONE TO KNOW WHO THEY ARE. Please wear decent masks, guys! So the coat and all that stuff is the same as in game, but the upper part I wanted to look like that action figure because I love it! I want the scarf mask and hat! Don't judge me!.


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